Shut The Gates At Sunset
by Soncnica
Summary: ...After that you can't get out.
1. Chapter 1

**The title and the summary come from a song by Morcheeba called Enjoy The Ride. This has been beta-ed by my lovely beta HollyBush. But me being what I am I added some things to this chapter after it has been beta-ed, so...nothing but the mistakes are mine. Oh, and the story has nothing to do with the lyrics of the song, I just thought it would be appropriate name for this story. And it happens somewhere in the first season.**

**Enjoy.**

**CHAPTER 1:**

It was a need, a deep need, that every person on the planet got up close and personal with from the day they are born. A need so deep that, according to Sam, should have been fulfilled five minutes ago. A need to pee.

"Dean, man, stop the car."

"What? Why?"

"I have to go."

"Go where?"

A long sigh greeted Deans question.

"Pee."

"God, Sam, we just left the gas station."

"Yeah, well sorry I didn't have to go pee 200 miles ago! Alright?"

"Can't you hold it?"

If looks could kill, Dean would be a dead man right now.

"O.K., alright, jeez, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Thank you." Sam slumped further down the seat.

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Sammy boy, where should I stop?"

"I really don't care about that right now, Dean." he let the 'Sammy' slide. No need to argue, not now at least, when there are other things on his mind.

"I don't want my baby stopping in some mud covered cow shit."

"Dean…," and a sigh, followed by a hand rubbing his face: "just stop the damn car."

Anger was radiating from Sam, and Dean had to turn his head in his direction just to make sure Sam wasn't possessed.

"Alright, alright, just don't break a leak."

"Ha, ha," and a whispered: "funny." to the window.

"Yeah well, you're capable of anything."

If looks could kill, Dean would be dead. Again.

"Where are you gonna go?"

"Huh?"

"To pee. Where are you gonna go? Coz' you ain't gonna pee behind my baby, that's for sure."

"Dean you're impossible."

"Yeah, well so are you."

"I'll go behind a tree, if it'll make you feel better."

"You see a lot of trees around here?"

There was nothing but grass and corn fields stretching miles and miles into the horizon.

"Then I'll just go into the corn field. Dude what's your problem?"

_I can't let you out of my sight, Sam. You draw troubles wherever you go. _

"No problems."

"Then why does it matter where I go? Dean, just stop the damn car, would ya'."

"Alright, alright, stop your bitching."

Dean stopped the Impala on the side of the road carefully, checking for signs of cow shit and mud. When he was satisfied there was nothing of the sort waiting to smudge his baby, he stopped.

There was a vast corn field on their right side and a long stretch of road on their left. A long yellow line separated it, one lane going to Loserville, the other one to Whateverville. Dean was just hoping they would get to a real city soon.

Sam climbed out of the car even before Dean's foot stepped on the break, closing the door with a loud squeak and a louder thump.

"Just keep your ass out of trouble, Sammy!"

Sam just raised his hand and walked toward the opening in the field.

"I mean it." Dean muttered, more to himself and a fly-resembling bug that made its way into the car when Sam opened the door.

"Great."

He opened the door on his side and moved his hand to the windshield in attempt to get rid of the fly-resembling bug.

The heat from the outside pushed itself in the car and Dean could actually feel his ass sticking to the car seat.

"I don't know what you are, but you ain't gonna bug me while I drive."

He waved his hand in the fly's direction and she flew onto the other side of the window.

"Oh, come on."

After some quite acrobatic moves, he managed to get the bug out.

The sun was in his face. No cars anywhere, just corn field after corn field after corn field.

"Fun place."

After appreciating some carefully picked out songs, Dean started to get a little restless.

"Come on Sam."

He tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel to a melody in his head.

He checked his watch. He had watched Sam take a run into the corn field...10 minutes ago.

Now that was just not normal. Alright, Sam was shy, but they were in the middle of nowhere, for crying out loud.

He didn't have to go all the way to the middle of the field. He didn't even have to go _into_ the field.

Dean's heart stopped the second the clock showed 11 minutes.

"Sam?!"

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Nothing to say here, but the obvious...that I own the mistakes, nothing else. **

**Enjoy.**

**CHAPTER 2: **

"Sam?!"

He got out of the car, quickly unglu'ing his ass from the seat. His feet hit the hot asphalt, and he swore that if he hadn't had his boots on, his feet would have burned.

He ran around the car, his right hand gazed the hot black hood, _shit it burned_, "Son of a bitch!" and he had to raise his hand to look if it had left any burns.

Nope, nothing.

He would have taken the time to curse the weather, the heat and the sun if there hadn't been something more important on his mind.

"Sam!"

He ran straight into the corn field, long beams of stem grazing his arms. Running among them, he felt like one of those people from 'Children of the corn'.

_Crap, please don't let this turn into that_.

"Sam!!"

Louder this time, trying to sound out every other sound. The birds were wreaking havoc, his feet hit the dry earth with each step, making loud crackling noises that turned his brain into mush.

"Sammy!!"

He used the name with a hint of hope that it would piss Sam off and he would come out of the damn corn.

A few birds flew out of the field, whistling and fluffing their wings.

Dean was pretty sure this was the same way he saw Sam take. It wasn't hard to follow a path the farmer must've made for easier access, but the damn plants were hitting him right on his head.

"Sammy!!" Another try.

"Aw, shit that one hurt," he mumbled to himself when one big corn hit him on the head.

"Sam, where are you?!"

He thought his heart would leap out of his chest, the way it was pounding. Even that would hurt less than the way he was feeling right now.

"Sam answer me, dammit!"

Another stalk of corn pushed aside, the dirt still making cracking noises beneath his feet, the heat becoming unbearable '_why is it so frigging hot here'_ and a breath.

He could barely hear it, but it was there. Right there on his left. He made a quick turn almost falling on his ass, his left hand touching the ground to prevent him falling, his fingers digging themselves in the dry dirt…and he ran.

After pushing his way through two rows of the corn, his eyes met his brothers' form.

Holding his arms near his body, T-shirt drenched in sweat, his jeans bloody. His head down, hair plastered to his forehead, obscuring his eyes, the sun shining on his back, slouched down…hurt.

The sight of his brother, made Dean stop on his track.

"Sammy?"

He slowly stepped closer, making sure not to startle Sam, he was scared shitless as it was.

"Dean?!"

"Hey, Sam, hey. Wha…what happened? You O.K.?"

His hand went to Sam's shoulder, hoping he would look up, but it didn't work. Sam's gaze was still fixed on something on the floor.

Dean bowed his head lower, and looked straight into Sam's shadowy eyes.

"Sam. Look at me."

The stern voice gave Sam some guidance, because all he knew right now was that he was completely lost.

Hands on both sides of his head raised his look to Dean's searching eyes. Worried, scared, panicked eyes.

"Dean?"

"'S O.K., Sammy. What happened?"

"I don't know…I, ah…"

When Dean was sure Sam's head would stay up, he ran his hands down Sam's checking for injures. He had to find the source of the blood on Sam's jeans.

"Sam, where are you hurt?"

His voice showed nothing but deep concentration.

"My hand."

"Show me."

Sam had his right hand pressed tightly to his stomach, T-shirt soaked in blood.

When Dean reached for his hands, Sam flinched.

"Come on Sam, just let me look, man."

Dean could see Sam thinking about the demand, but he soon had his hand in his own.

"What happened?"

His eyes widened on the site of Sam's right wrist. It was cut, not deep enough to require stitches, but deep enough to bleed.

"I, ah, I had a vision and…"

"You had a vision?"

"Yeah."

Sam winced when Dean inspected the cut more thoroughly.

"Did…" a pause: "...you cut it?"

He had to ask, had to know.

"What? No, no, I had a vision and it just appeared."

He stared at the cut. He could almost hear the skin sizzling in the scorching sun.

"How's your head?"

"Fine, 's fine."

_Liar. _

"O.K., come on, let's get you to the car and we'll talk."

Sam pushed his hand back to his stomach, the shirt already bloody, the smell of copper filling the air, blood drying in the afternoon heat.

He was confused and scared and his head was killing him. It took him the whole walk to the car to get his bearings. Stumbling, barely keeping himself from falling and with Dean close behind so he could keep an eye on him, he made it to the car.

Dean opened the passenger door, pushed Sam into the seat and went to the trunk to get the first aid.

He was left there, feet flat on the dirt, feeling his blood flow, the heat causing him to sweat and shift on the hot seat.

The heat of the afternoon sun was driving them crazy, _it wasn't normal_, but they both knew that it would simmer down soon, to bearable evening warmth.

Dean found the kit and was crouching in front of Sam, before he even really noticed Deans absence.

He winced when Dean took his hand.

The hot air brushing over the cut brought a new kind of sting, a slight distraction from the original.

He winced once more when Dean started to clean the cut.

"Yeah, I know. I'll patch you up in no time."

The winces and sharp intakes of breath from Sam made Dean worry. It wasn't like Sam to do that. To be such a baby.

"Sam, I uh, have to take your bracelet down."

"What? Why?"

A look of confusion and _fear_ made its way to his face. No way to hide it.

"Well, I can't wrap the bandage with the bracelet on. It'll go into the cut, and when I'll tie the bandage it'll cut into your skin."

The thoughts that were evidently running all over Sam's face confused Dean. It was just a bracelet.

"Sam?"

He had to call out to his brother, because his eyes just left the perimeter. And that call of his name brought a feeling to his face, one that Dean knew…trust.

"Yeah, yeah, O.K. Just make sure I can put it back on later."

"Sure."

He cut it and placed it in the pocket of his jeans.

After seconds of silence that to both of them dragged like hours, Dean had to know. He had to make Sam talk. It wasn't like him not to talk about it.

"So, your vision. What was it about?"

"Huh?" Still not quite here.

"The vision Sam, what was it about?"

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**I thought about posting this tomorrow, but I just found out I won't be able too, so I'm posting it today. These first few chapters I know are short, but the later ones won't be…this much. And if you think I leave them on a cliffhanger or what's it called on purpose I'm not...it's just how the story was developing in my head. I'm not THAT evil…see I'm posting it a day early...not evil.  
**

**Enjoy**

**CHAPTER 3: **

"The vision Sam, what was it about?"

He looked up from Sam's wrist to his eyes, that were looking down in confusion. They were big, owl-like and settled lightly on his own.

"Yeah. I was just zipping up when it hit me. I tried to yell for you but I just got…you know."

Pressing tighter on Sam's wrist, he had to make a joke.

"God, Sammy, I can't leave you even to take a piss on your own."

"Whatever dude."

"So this vision…?"

He finished wrapping the bandage around the wrist and looked back at Sam.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah, uh, so I saw a man, ah, a boy, sitting on a table, or a bed, or... I don't know...something."

"Alright, go on."

He had to encourage Sam to talk, the blood lost and heat were making Sam dizzy and he starting to fade from time to time.

"Sam, hey, come on, man, stay with me here."

He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep him from swaying to the dashboard.

"Hum, ah, it was really blurry, I think it was a bed not a table, and, uh, well his wrist was cut, I could see the blood on the sheets,"

he pointed to the masterpiece of a bandage Dean made, "and, ah, that's all I remember."

He started to run his fingers up and down his temples, making circles, willing for the throbbing to stop already.

"So, he was sitting there, cutting his wrist and that's when this happened?" He pointed to the white soft material keeping Sam's wrist neatly hidden.

"The cut, on my wrist, it just appeared, I don't know, it just happened. But his wrist was already cut, he wasn't cutting it. It was just there, bleeding." There was a pinch of disgust in his voice, as he remembered the bloody wound on the boys wrist. He hadn't dared to look at his own.

"The visions, they are always tied to the demon, right?"

A small nod encouraged Dean to continue his string of thought.

"Alright, and they always have something to do with, "he waved his hand in the air, "your thing, right?"

Again, a little nod came from Sam.

"We'll figure this out. Don't worry."

"Dean, we have to find that guy."

"Well O.K, so where do we start looking?"

"I…"

"Let's find a motel, get some rest. Maybe you'll remember something later and we'll figure it out then."

Dean got up from the floor, ran his hand over his jeans to rid them of the dirt, and walked around the car.

Sam sat back in the seat, folded his legs and picked at the bandage. He slipped a finger over the edge, lightly pulling it, trying to look inside, but Dean's job was perfect. Not too tight, not too loose. Just perfect. Years of training would do that to you.

He closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the seat when he got slapped in the face by something soft and it smelt like...well... it had an unidentifiable smell. Sam would call it flowery, but Dean would deny it completely, so they both agreed to call it unidentifiable.

"Change your shirt."

Sam opened his eyes to blackness obscuring his eyes. He waved his hands, sat up straight so fast it took Dean by surprise.

"Sam, what?"

"Nothin'."

_It's just a shirt._

He took off his bloody T-shirt, but then found he didn't know what to do with it. Dean saw the puzzled look and took pity on him.

"Here," he extended his hand "give it to me."

He put the shirt into Dean's awaiting hand and pulled on the fresh one. In the meantime Dean came back.

"I put it in the trunk. We'll get rid of it later."

"I need a shower. I have blood all over me."

"You sure bled a lot."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

The heat was killing them. Sam even more so, the sweat running down his neck and arms, the bandage soaking up most of it. It made the cut sting.

"Close the door, Sam."

One loud crack and both doors were closed.

Sam winced when some more sweat came in contact with his wound.

"You O.K.?"

"Yeah, it's just…yeah I'm fine. I just want to go to sleep."

He gave the sweetest fake-smile he could muster.

"Sam, do you remember anything else? Anything that'll help us?"

"No," a low growl, "just that he was in a room, just him sitting on the bed. There was a window by his head, the window had bars on it. It was white...sunny-like."

"O.K. then. Nothing else?"

Sam shook his head 'no'.

Dean took a deep breath and started up the car.

"Maybe it'll hit you again."

The moment those words flew out of his mouth, Sam thought he was gonna throw up.

"I know."

It was the slightest whisper over the humming noise of the Impala and Dean knew Sam was scared.

"It'll be fine."

"You don't know how it is."

"Trust me, it'll be fine."

"How can you say that?" no accusation. Nothing.

"Coz' I'll be there." A grin so big made its appearance on Deans face, outshining the sun.

Sam just looked at him, no thoughts, no comebacks, nothing.

And they left it at that.

Dean turned up the radio, turned the car to the road, heading to Whateverville.

Clouds were picking up their strength in the distance, menacing creatures of grayness and moisture. They were rolling towards a little city someone once named Whateverville. The wind their messenger, picking up leaves and trash, twirling it in the air.

Thunder shook the earth, lightning illuminated the darkness of the sky, its tentacles spreading all over the big wide sky. The big mass of clouds grazed above the roads and fields, their softness caressing the trees and corn, leaving nothing but rain behind. Going fast, faster than the little black car driving on the road below. Driving fast, but not fast enough.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't know if I have to do this with every chapter, but just the mistakes are mine. And I want to THANK all the 'silent' readers that are reading this story. And of course all the ones that take their time to leave a review. Every review and every hit that this story receives means A LOT TO ME. It keeps me going, it keeps me writing, especially in this April weather we're having here. Heat, rain, snow, heat, rain, snow...it's enough to make you crazy(er).**

**Enjoy.**

--

**CHAPTER 4: **

Finding a motel proved to be easier than they had thought. Dean tapped Sam on the shoulder when they walked to their room.

"This is exactly like the motel in that movie."

Sam looked at him like he was high. Too much sugar. Again. Probably.

"I hope no one is imagining this in their head, huh?"

"You. Are. Weird."

"No weirder than you Sammy."

Fumbling with the keys gave Dean an extra minute to enjoy the fresh nightly air, no longer hot, just peacefully warm. A great difference from the scorching heat that ruled the day. Not to mention the pressure rising visions, (O.K., vision, one) and pit stops every 15 minutes or so for Sam and his pee adventures. And the tiresome act of locking the car to go with Sam. Oh, and let's not forget at least five fights in the sense of:

"Dean man, can you just go away, or go stand...I don't know...away from me?!"

"No." and hands crossed and pressed tightly to his chest.

"Dean."

"God knows what can happen if I leave you alone, dude."

"The car is five feet away from me!"

_Five feet too far._

"No." Bullheaded, and a stance of defiance.

"I'm just peeing."

"And I'm looking away."

"God." And a sigh. Defeated.

Entering the room, Sam made a run towards the bathroom. Again.

Dean could swear it was like looking at that bird from Wile E. Coyote, just without the ball of dust at his feet.

He sighed, scratched the back of his neck and went for the nearest bed. He turned on the TV, shuffling through the channels. Finding nothing, he threw the remote on Sam's bed in frustration.

"I'll give you one more minute and then I'm busting the door, Sam. Pants on or off…" His worrying voice carried harshness, he wasn't comfortable using on Sam. But before that thought could develop in full he was interrupted by the bathroom door opening with a cracking noise.

"Sam what took you so long?"

"I, ah, had to wash up."

"You were inside for 10 minutes, and I didn't hear any water running."

"I was washing off the blood."

_How Sam? With your spit?_

He left it alone and watched Sam as he flopped on the bed, the remote control under his behind, so that he had to pull it out and throw it at Dean.

"Nothing's on." It was the only defense Dean had.

"We should go to sleep."

"It's half past five. I don't go to bed when the chickens do."

"You're not tired?"

"Nope, not at all."

Sam looked at his brother, all smiles and 'nothing's wrong' pose. But Sam saw right through it. He saw fear and frustration. The same two emotions that were running through him too.

The silence that ruled in the room was broken irregularly by their deep breathing, passing cars and Sam's sigh when he had to go to the bathroom again. He closed the door, leaving Dean puzzled.

This was beyond not normal. It was just plain weird.

A loud thunder echoed through the air, tightening both of their chests, Dean's on the bed and Sam's in the bathroom. The lights flickered and turned off. Dead.

"Sam!"

"Dean!"

It wasn't pitch dark, it was just dim. The room only being illuminated by the street lamp and the motel sign. A mix of yellow and blue light making the room look cute instead of terrifying. Lightning flickered in from time to time, leaving quick flashes of light behind, thunder coming closer and louder.

Making his way toward the bathroom door Dean heard a cry from his brother. A cry that made his skin wanna come off.

"Sam!!"

The light Dean brought with him when he opened the bathroom door revealed Sam kneeling under the sink, his fingers gripping the edge of it. His knuckles had turned white, whiter than the porcelain sink, the bandage on his wrist red. His head down towards his chest, he was swaying slightly on his heels, his hair hiding his eyes.

"Sammy?"

A voice that carried precaution.

He stepped slowly towards Sam, not wanting to startle him. He kneeled by his right side, closer to the door.

"Hey,"

A pause so that he could put his hand on Sam's shoulder, and squeezed tightly.

"Sam?"

Sam was lost in a world only he could go. A world flooded with blurry images, muffled sounds, no smells and no touch.

A moan reached Dean's ears and that sparkled something in him. He reached his hand to Sam's fingers grasping the sink and gently tried to pry them off. One by one they detached themselves and fell on Dean's forearm.

"Sammy?"

Sam looked up at Dean's face, a ghostly shadow in his eyes made Dean shiver.

"You O.K.?"

Sam shut his eyes close almost on the verge of pushing them inside his eye sockets.

"Sam?"

You could cut the worry in Dean's voice with a knife.

Another moan from Sam's throat fell onto Dean's soul, cutting right through. Sam's fingers tightened their hold on Dean's bare arm, digging them in, breaking skin and Dean couldn't suppress a hiss.

"Son of a bitch, God Sam," he felt Sam's nails cutting into his skin, "Sam come on, hey, hey, you're O.K."

He was taking a road down pleading lane.

"De…n." a whimper of a voice came to Dean's ear.

"Sammy, that's it, come on. 'S O.K., 's alright."

The blue light made Sam's face look dead, breathless. If it wasn't for the rapid intakes of air, Dean would have thought Sam was dead.

The fingers released his arm ever so slowly, and he could feel a drop of blood run down to his wrist.

"Shit Sammy."

He dared a look at the spot where Sam dug in his fingers and hissed again.

When his eyes returned to Sam's a second later he saw confusion in them.

"I saw…" a deep breath, "him again."

"The boy?"

"He was still sitting there," a shiver ran up his hand, transferring some of it to Dean, still holding Sam by his upper arms, "and, uh, I wanted to see more, " a tear made its way down his cheek, one lonely drop of water, "and I saw his eyes, they…"

"Sam? Slow down. It's O.K."

That tear had Dean worried to no end.

"…they were staring at me. It was like I was standing in front of him and they were staring at me. They were empty you know? Just staring at me."

Sam felt Dean's hands holding him, saw Dean's eyes pleading to go on, to calm down, to take it slow.

"Were they…"

"Yellow? No, they were normal, you know, brown, young."

"That's good."

Relief made its way up Deans spine, soon replaced with worry. Why brown?

"And I saw what was written on his shirt."

"Alright…"

"It said…" the words got lost in the loud sound of thunder resonating through the room followed by a flash of lightning, "and Ryan Hicks."

"O.K, Sammy we'll figure it out."

The rain that started not long after found Sam lying on the bed with Dean hovering above his wrist.

"It looks good."

A deafening silence was his only answer. Sam was lying perfectly still on the hard bed, afraid that moving would bring a new kind of pain.

"Aspirin, Dean."

"Huh?"

The voice made him flinch, his ears still accustomed to the silence and occasional thunder.

The rain was hitting the roof, like stones were being thrown at it, and tickling the small window, as if mice were hurrying over it.

"Right, sure."

Searching in his duffle he found the small bottle.

"You want," he heard Sam make a run towards the bathroom and the lights came back on, "something stronger?"

"No." A long dragged painful whisper was all that was left of Sam's presence in the room as he closed the bathroom door.

"Alrighty then."

Dean put the aspirin on the nightstand along with a bottle of water. He averted his eyes to the marks Sam made with his fingernails and cursed under his breath. _Gotta cut your nails, Sammy, jeez. _He grabbed a paper towel he found hiding in a cup board and wiped away the blood drop on his wrist. _Not much damage, it'll heal._

One minute, two minutes, three minutes, four minutes turned to eight minutes and Dean was climbing the walls.

"Sam!" it wasn't a plea, it was a demand, "I swear I'm coming in and I don't care what you're doing in there."

As soon as his hand reached the door handle it twisted and the door opened, showing a frightened Sam.

"Dean, I…" he lowered his head for a second to hear Dean's breath of relief, "…I think there's something wrong with me."

The next breath that came out of Dean's mouth was a suffocating huff of panic.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well this was some week...I should be in Paris, the city of love right now, but life has weird ways of making you insane. But on the bright side that allowed me to make this chapter a little longer and better? I hope you won't suffer through it with Sam like I did. **

**Enjoy.**

**--**

**CHAPTER 5:**

"Ya think?" there was a pinch of annoyance there but it soon lifted up when he touched Sam's shoulder to help him get to bed. They stumbled across the light blue carpet, around the table and the chairs, making a swift rotation to their left and hit the bed frame.

"Dean." Sam breathed out and clung to the word to get his bearings back.

"Come on, sit down."

"I don't wanna..." he whined like a five year old.

"Just lay down, alright?"

He pushed Sam down on the hard mattress a little too harsh and his head hit the pillow and disappeared in the softness.

Sam felt a wave of dizziness wash over his head, ceiling spinning and blurring in and out of focus. The stone hard mattress was doing nothing for his back and the too soft pillow gave him a sensation of drowning. Which was the last feeling he needed right now. he wiped the sweat that was rolling down his face an neck away, soaking his shirt in it.

"Yeah, maybe I should."

_Told ya. _

He felt Dean linger by his bed, after he already closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath he braced himself for the obvious question he knew Dean had rolling somewhere in his head.

"So, what's wrong with you? What are you, " he stopped there, not knowing which tense to use, "…were you doing in the bathroom?"

Alright, that just came out…wrong. But the best way to deal with a situation is to go straight to the point. Throw yourself in the pool and swim…

"Did you find anything about the boy?" Sam didn't even try to open his eyes, didn't wanna look at Dean, and most definitely didn't wanna see Dean's searching eyes. He remained sprawled on the thin blanket unmoving and hurting.

…or drown.

_If that's the way it's gonna be, Sammy._

"Sam."

"What did you find out?"

_The kid is persistent, have to give him that. He always was, always will be. _

"Sam."

"What?"

"You started the conversation you finish it." it was a perfect pinch of anger to Sam's buckets of annoyance.

"I…" _I can't tell him, he'll never stop teasing me, and I really don't need that, not right now_"…tell me what you found out."

'_S that really how it's gonna be, Sam? You starting a conversation and then not finishing it…I'm rubbing on you a little too much, Sammy. _

"Well I didn't have much time to find out anything."

_I'm caving in here, Sam. But this is far from over._

"I'll do it, just give me my computer."

He pried his eyes open and reached his left hand out grabbing noting but the warm air in the room. He looked at his big brother leaning his left knee on the bed.

"No, I'll do it. You just rest here."

"I'm not five, I can do it."

"Well, then stop acting like you are."

"Fine." He threw his arm over his eyes in an attempt to hide from the light, from the loud thunder shaking his brain, the rain slowly dragging him towards sleep.

"Fine."

Dean was left there, standing by the bed, looking at his brother, listening to his breath even out, sleep finally overtaking him.

_You say you can, but you can barely keep your eyes open…idiot._

The aspirin still sat untouched beside the bottle of water that swayed with every thunder. It was a half empty bottle or a half full depends on you point of view, but to Dean it was an annoying piece of crap. The thunder sent vibrations through it and it shook, making a clacking noise that drove him crazy. He smiled down on Sam's sleeping form and snatched the bottle off the night stand bringing it with him to the table.

_If he'll need it he'll say…demand it. _

He sat down on the chair in front of the computer and stared at it. The screen was black and he could see his reflection in it. _What's wrong with Sam? Beside the visions. That was obvious. _

He turned on the PC and waited for it to turn on completely. He didn't wanna freeze it, he would never hear the end of it.

Sam stood up and wavered to the bathroom. Again. The closing of the door was accompanied by a deep and loud sigh. Dean absentmindedly looked up from the computer and shook his head. _If he was hurt, he would tell me about it, right?_

He went on with his search typing in the name Sam gave him.

Loading…loading…loading…

"God, this is frustrating." he murmured to himself.

"Next time we have to get a room with faster internet connection, man." he yelled towards the bathroom door, straining his neck so that he could out voice the thunder.

Maybe Sam heard him, maybe not. He didn't give and indication in either way.

After an agonizingly long minute the page finally loaded.

"Finally."

It was a dead end that continued for the next few pages and Dean was slowly loosing his patience.

Sam made it out of the bathroom at some point and was now laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, Dean's light tapping on the computer making him sleepy again.

"Found the place."

There was excitement in his voice accompanied with a weak eagerness to get this done.

Sam got of the bed in quick motion, almost falling on his face and staggered across the room. He stepped up behind Dean, eyes glued to the computer screen, his hands on the back of the chair for support or else he would face plant straight on the computer. The blue light shone in their faces, making Sam squint his eyes to mere slits, his head still pounding.

"Well that's," in search of a better word, Dean raised his eyebrows, "odd."

"It's," mimicking Dean's lack of words, "weird."

"Didn't we," he pointed his index finger to the screen and turned his head around to see the reaction Sam made, "drive pass that place today?" the thought was playing in both of their thoughts, but only Dean had the strength to voice it out.

No time to think thisthrough: "Pack your things Sam, we're leaving."

"Now?" he moved away from the chair Dean was sitting in thus allowing Dean to push it away and stand up.

"Yes now, it's not that far. We'll be there by midnight, maybe a little later. We'll find a motel there and check the place out in the morning."

"O.K., ah, I'll turn off the computer. You carry the bags to the car and we'll go." Sam wasn't sure about this plan. It sucked out loud. To take a drive in this storm, to him sounded like suicide. But, on the other hand, he needed this to be over with and besides he really didn't have the strength to argue with Dean.

He slapped the computer shut and gave another look at the room that was their home for all of three hours. Well, that has to be a record of some sort.

30 minutes later found the little black car driving slowly down the road. The heat that burned the asphalt during the day changed into a thick mist under the cold rain. Wrapping the Impala's tires it almost seemed like it was driving on clouds. The fields of corn became high columns of trees either side of the long road. Some undergrowth caressed the muddy sides making everything look old and new at the same time. There was no moon, no lights nothing but thunder, lightning and occasional heavy blows of rain. The silence that occupied the car soon broke.

"Dean please stop."

"Now what Sam?"

"I have to go."

"Again? I stopped 15 minutes ago and it's raining and we're in the middle of nowhere and its pitch black."

"Dean, stop the damn car. Now!"

"Sam, tell me what's wrong with you?"

"I have to pee and this rain…it's not helping."

"You really should learn how to pee in a bottle, it would save us some time."

"Are you serious?" the voice killed Dean.

"Dean please just stop," turning his anger into pure misery, he added: "it hurts."

A quick look at Sam made Dean wince. Sam's eyes were fixed on the windshield, tears shining in the corners of his eyes, his right hand was resting on the door handle, his left one on his stomach and he was trying to take slow measured breaths. A rhythm to forget the stinging pain in his bladder. He thought it would explode any second now.

"Fine." _O.K. Sammy it'll be O.K. _

He drove the car to the side of the road and Sam was out even before the car stopped completely.

Dean followed him, not caring if the car got dirty, wet or cold...or worst case scenario stolen.

He found Sam near a tree, his left hand pressing his weight on it and Dean saw this was taking a drain on him.

He stood near but not near enough that it would bother Sam, and when he saw his brother finishing he slipped back in the car. Not long and Sam joined him.

"Let me look at the bandage."

"Why? It's fine."

"You got it wet, Sam. Just let me take a look, alright?"

The only answer was Sam's stretched hand and a deep breath when he dropped his head back on the seat.

He didn't feel anything for a while, no touch, no change in air, no bandage being changed. But he did feel Dean's eyes all over him.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

The softness of those words moved something inside Sam.

"I don't know," he opened his eyes and looked straight into Dean's awaiting ones, "it's like I can't," a loud thunder broke into his words, "you know." he pointed to his stomach. Their clothes were wet, raindrops were dripping down their faces, glistening in the occasional lightning.

"Can't what Sam?"

"Empty my bladder." If the ground would open right now and swallow him, it would be such a blessing.

Dean wanted to laugh so bad it hurt his mouth, but this was no matter to joke about.

"Even when, you know, after you pee?" he collected all the seriousness he had for his brother.

"Yeah, it's like, for 10, 15 minutes it's alright, and then I have to go again."

"Were you," this was beyond embarrassment right now, "hurt," he waved his hand in the direction of Sam's stomach, "there? I don't remember you being hurt on our last hunt."

"I can't believe," he muttered the words behind his hands, that made their way on his face, "we're having this discussion."

"Sam, hey, you have nothing to hide from a man who changed your diapers."

"Still, it's embarrassing." a slow grumble.

"Just answer me." _Sammy please, talk to me._

"No I wasn't hurt, I have no idea why this is happening to me." he knew it was said harshly, but this was getting more frustrating by the passing seconds.

They were sitting in the cold car, the storm disappearing somewhere in the distance, nothing but drizzle left to caress the car.

Dean found Sam's hand on his stomach, protectively draped over his bladder. He took it in his own hands and started to unwrap the bandage, previous conversation obviously ended.

"Move closer."

Sam did as he was told. There was no point in not doing so. Dean would probably just slide him over himself if he wouldn't obey. So he turned to Dean, pulling his left leg on the seat and leaned on it.

"You don't think it has something to do with the visions, do you?" Deans voice made him look at him fiddling with the white gauze.

"I have no idea, it could be. I mean, weirder things have happened before, right?"

He felt his brothers expert hands unwrapping the bandage. It was an almost ticklish feeling and he would've have laughed if there wasn't for a familiar feeling creeping into his bladder.

"Yeah. Hold still, Sam."

Sam sighed and returned his head to its previous position on the back of the seat.

A car passed by, headlights cutting their eyes.

"It's healing nicely. It wasn't that deep, but it sure bled a lot."

"I know, I was there."

"I'll just wrap it again."

"Just do it."

Sam was drained and exhausted. He didn't dare to drink, afraid that would make things even more excruciating. Water was the last thing on his mind right now although he could drink a whole lake and it still wouldn't be enough.

"Maybe after I wrap it up, you'll have to go pee again and that way we'll kill two flies at once, huh?" A sour smile, but a smile nevertheless made it's way to Deans face and Sam mimicked it with a twist of anger.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Yeah Sam, sure. Stopping every few minutes, you hurting, mud all over my baby…it's fun. Better than Disney World." He raised an eyebrow and flashed his look to Sam.

The conversation only served as a distraction from the stinging pain in Sam's wrist and a weird kind of pain in his bladder.

A breathy voice broke the silence of bandage wrapping.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to go."

"Shit Sam, now? I'm in the middle of something here." He looked at Sam. The way Sam was turned towards him allowed Dean to see his brother clenching his eyes shut, trying to breathe as slowly as possible.

"Dean."

"Can you just hold it? Just for a minute. I have to wrap it. Just one more minute."

"Dean." All the pain was concentrated in that name.

"Just one minute, Sammy. I'm doing my best here."

"It hurts."

_Sammy._

He tried to concentrate on something other that the pain his bladder was shooting up his body…on the little stars dancing behind his closed eyes, on the slight thunder from somewhere far in the distance, on Deans voice, touch, the smell of the Impala…anything that would keep his mind of the…sting.

"Nearly done."

"Mhmmm." He rubbed his left hand over his face, obscuring his grimace when he felt he wouldn't make it.

**--**

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**I have a cold accompanied with a fever and the tea is leaking from my ears by now so excuse me if this chapter isn't that good. I'll make up to you next time when I'll be feeling better **_I hope_**. And of course I own nothing but a soar throat and a bucket of mistakes.**

**Enjoy.**

**--**

**CHAPTER 6: **

The drizzle stopped. Just like that. It just stopped. All rain stops at some point, right? All thunder loses its sound, all lightning loses its light, right? Everything loses its energy at some point, right?

The darkness stayed though. The mud stayed too. And the light in the Impala stayed. The trees stayed. The cold stayed. And while Sam was losing every ounce of energy, Dean stayed.

As soon as Sam felt the bandage being tied, he ran out of the car. His long legs slipped on the floor bringing him to his knees and that was it. That was the very last drop that sent him into surrender. He slid to the floor, his hands dug themselves into the wet ground, mud now, and grabbed fistful of it. He could feel his wrist being cut open, dividing, pulling apart, blood oozing out, soaking the newly wrapped bandage. He didn't care, it could get infected, he could bleed to death and he just couldn't care less.

A silent cry reached Deans ears, his hands were still in midair when his eyes sought out Sam on all four beside the open door.

"Sam!"

Sam felt his knees getting wet and he shivered when a strong blow of wind curled around him. He could feel everything draining out of him, down his lap, down on the already soaked ground. Tears stung his eyes, lightly falling down his cheeks, no way of stopping it. No strength to stop it. Not even willpower. In his mind, everything just stopped.

Dean was crouching next to Sam faster than Sam could register. One hand made its way onto Sam's back, the other one going past Sam's head to his arm. He tried to pull him up from the ground but Sam wouldn't budge.

"Sam? Sammy, hey. Come on get up."

"Don't." the misery in his breathless croak made Dean twitch.

"Sam? Don't what?"

He searched Sam's face for something, anything that would give him a clue as to what was happening. After the second it took for his eyes to adjust to the faint light, he saw it. Tears that led to embarrassment and shame bathing in his eyes.

"Sammy?"

The name was a distraction to give Sam while he searched his body for any indication of where the shame came from.

Sam felt like he was swimming, thoughts in his head degraded to a buzz in his ears, Dean's voice a safeguard of his sanity. He felt Dean's hands' making their way up and down his body, searching for injuries, the voice returning only when none could be found.

"Oh…" there was a hint of surprise in his voice. He couldn't hide it and Sam figured Dean found the source of his shame.

"I'm sorry." his head fell down in plain misery, eyes lost behind his hair.

"Yeah, no, no, it's O.K. I'll go find you a new pair of pants," he pressed his hands tighter around Sam's head, making him to look up, "you'll change and it'll be fine. It happens, Sam. It's fine."

His heart was braking to pieces, at the sight of his brother. Drained, loosing his will like this... it wasn't like Sam. Far from that. He gave him a reassuring smile and got up. The look of appreciation on his brothers face pulled Dean into action. He used to do this when Sam was a baby, he could do this again now, when Sam was a man.

Dragging him those few inches to lean him against the side of the Impala, took minutes in Deans head.

"Don't slide off." he warned Sam with a soft pat on his chest.

Sam nodded and put his hands on his muddy knees, head down and just breathed. That little action had two consequences. The first one was an unbearable pain that shot from his wrist up his arm, down his spine and landed in his stomach. The second one was the stench that came from his jeans making him dizzy, a reminder of the little 'accident', he hoped Dean would never bring up again.

"Oh God," was all Sam got to say before his knees buckled and he came to meet the floor in a whole new way. The noise the mud made when he collided with it traveled to his ears, the softness of the wet cold ground made a lovely bed to rest on.

"Sammy?"

The voice came from behind the car, and that was all Sam heard before the blissful emptiness took him into his embrace. Nothing was there, no cold, no water, no pain, no voices, no breaths, nothing.

"Sam, no, come on. Wake up. Sam!!"

But Dean knew Sam was out. Out cold on the cold, cold, ground.

-:-

"De…n…"

The whispered breath of his name made Dean jump.

He was sitting next to Sam on the motel bed with the soft light as his only company while Sam was unconscious. It was a little faded, obscured with the dead flies that had found their resting place inside the bulb. It made Sam look like he was dead. He looked dead the whole ride to the motel and lying there on the bed, Dean found himself checking his pulse every few minutes to convince himself Sam was still alive. Still here. E_verything 's fine. Just fine._

"Hey, Sam, hey, wake up." he tried with a soft voice.

He reached his hand to Sam's shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Sammy hey wake up, come on. Just don't move, alright? Just lay still, O.K.?" a quiet voice that wouldn't even wake up the dead.

"Wha…?"

He felt it then. The stinging pain around his wrist. He smelled the antiseptic. He saw Deans eyes in full doctor mode and he raised himself from the bed as much as he could. His right hand was pinned beneath Deans, the touch soothed some of the pain.

"Whoa Sam, hey, stop. Don't move."

With a swift motion he pinned Sam's right hand to the bed with his knee and tried to grab his flailing hands. Sam was in full blown panic.

"Dean, shit," blowing a few breaths out, "it hurts, stop, please, please," Dean's hand on his chest pushed him back on the bed, "oh God."

"'S alright, Sammy. 'S O.K., just lay back for me, O.K.?" he lingered his hand on Sam's chest a second longer just to feel him alive under his touch.

The hazy look Sam wore made Dean think, hope, Sam would fall unconscious again.

"We've done this a million times before Sam, just calm down."

"Yeah, 's just..." he raised his left hand to his forehead and covered his eyes, his face contorted into a grimace, almost on the verge of crying, wiping sweat of his brow, then flopping it back on the bed: "Just give me a sec."

"I had to do it, Sam, you were bleeding all over the place, and well, you being unconscious…I seized the chance. I have to be careful with this, the wrist…it's a sensitive area to sew up."

"Yeah, 's fine. I just need a second."

"I have to finish, you know that, right?"

He raised his eyebrow and looked sympathetically at Sam.

The silence was a strange kind of an answer, but Dean took it. His hands were covered in Sam's blood, still oozing from the wrist. The needle and thread gripped firmly between his fingers, and he waited.

Sam's eyes were closed, his left hand resting next to his hip, the soft light made him look too young, too battered, growing up too fast. After a few slow breaths Dean had to know.

"Sam?"

"Still here."

"I have to finish."

A soft plea he wished he didn't have to make.

"I know."

No permission to go ahead and finish the job. He would never betray Sam's trust and attack him with pain, if Sam wasn't ready.

"Sam?"

"Yeeeeeaaah." A dragged breath that almost sounded like a word.

"Now would be great."

"I never thought," he opened his eyes, tears forming in the corners, and looked at Dean, "this could hurt so much. But I've had worse, right?"

"Yeah, Sammy."

Dean tried to count all the times he'd done this. Sewing up his brother. Too many, just way too many times.

"Well you've been out of commission for four years. No wonder you got soft."

"Funny."

Sam quickly assessed his body and the first thing he noticed, besides the wrist, was that he felt different. Dry.

"Did you," stumbling with the right words, his eyes grew darker and smaller, trying to hide, "change me?"

Dean looked up from Sam's wrist and saw a hint of shame in those brown orbs.

"Well, you smelled," _it wasn't easy on me neither, Sam_, "like the toilet and you were shivering and I…"

"Just finish it." it was said harshly as embarrassment he couldn't even define crept to his face followed by a blush, he knew wouldn't disappear soon enough.

"Sure."

And he began again. The slow familiar flow of the needle, almost mesmerizing him if it wasn't for Sam's trembling fingers fisting the bed sheet for distraction. Low moaning sounds and hisses from Sam, that just Dean couldn't take anymore, awoke a need to soothe in him.

"Just a few more. You'll be fine and then well figure this out. Just breathe through it, yeah?"

"Oh God." was his only response to his brothers suggestion.

It hurt to breathe, it hurt to lie down, it throbbed and it stung and it burned. His wrist, his bladder, his head, everything.

Dean concentrated on the thread making its way in and out of Sam's skin. In and out in harmony with Sam's squeezing of the sheet. In, squeeze, out, release, in, squeeze, out, release, in, squeeze, out, release.

The skin was thin, the veins too visible, like rivers of blood making his job of sewing his brother back together way to difficult. He could feel Sam's heartbeat under his fingers where he held Sam's hand down. Te coppery smell of blood filled his nostrils and he tried hard not to gag.

The kid blended with the bed. If Sam hadn't been wearing his green shirt, which collided with the whiteness of the bed, he would have thought Sam was the bed. _Lost too much fluid, too much blood. _

"You have to breathe Sam." he chuckled a little, but it was no matter to laugh about. In went another stitch.

"Mhm."

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

He really hoped not.

"Yeah." he was sore, tired, hurt, smelly, sleepy, bloody, muddy, and he really needed to pee. No need in hiding the fact.

"Can you hang on? I have 4 stitches to do, maybe 5 because of your little rise and shine episode back there."

"Mhm." he put his hand to his forehead again, running his fingers through his hair and trying not to think about the stinging pain on his wrist and the pain in his bladder.

"Just a little more." he stuck out his tongue and made another stitch.

"Dean, now!" he could feel his bladder about to explode, urine already making his appearance.

The scream shook him, and the needle fell from his trembling fingers.

"You can't go to the bathroom with your wrist half stitched and bleeding, Sam."

Knocking on Sam's logical side softly, Dean grabbed the needle again and resumed his task.

Sam tried to stand up slowly but Dean's hand on his chest stopped him.

"I have to get up."

Breathless words made their way out of his mouth, his eyes fixed on Dean, pleading to let him up, job finished or not.

"It hurts if I lay down." he sucked it in, not wanting to pee his pants again. Ever.

"Sam, just one more stitch and…here. See? That wasn't so bad."

The eyeroll Sam gave him was the only answer he got.

Leaving the wrist unbandaged he ran towards the bathroom. He could feel his bladder emptying and he let out a sigh of relief. He knew it would last for only a few minutes but he would even take seconds right now.

"You really need to learn how to pee in a bottle, man," were the first words that came out of Deans mouth when Sam stepped out of the bathroom.

"Shut up."

"Washed your hands?"

"Bite me."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Dean had already stored away the sewing kit and had a new bandage ready for the wrist, whose owner stood in the middle of the room looking lost and unsure of what to do next.

"Come here." he patted the bed with his hand and waved the bandage in front of his face.

Sam dropped on the bed and breathed out loud.

"Give me your hand."

"Yeah." he gave his hand into Deans and waited for him to begin.

"So what's the plan?" he tried to hide the pain behind a stern voice but failed miserably.

"Well, tomorrow...ehh... I mean today, we'll go there and we'll see if anyone knows this Ryan guy and we'll take it from there." he pretended not to hear the pain bathing in Sam's voice.

"What if they won't let us see him, Dean?" he looked at his brother with eyes behind his hair, trying to hide the embarrassment so evidently in them.

"We'll improvise." Dean looked at Sam and saw what Sam was trying to hide.

"Here you go, nice, fresh and clean." he released Sam's hand.

Sam ran his hand through his hair, dividing the muddy locks and sighed in frustration.

"You need a shower Sam."

Sam was covered in mud that was slowly drying on his face.

"I need sleep more."

_Well I never thought you'll admit that_.

"I know, but you really smell, Sam, you have mud all over your face and unless you want me to take another room…" he was roughly interrupted by Sam's: "Well there's a thought.", but that didn't put him off stream, "you are taking that shower and nice try," a smile tugged his lips upwards, "but no." He dropped Sam's hand on the bed and got up.

"Here," he shoved a plastic bag in Sam's lap, "put this on your hand and go or I swear I'll use all the hot water next time."

**--**

**TBC...**

**I really hope it didn't suck too much.**


	7. Chapter 7

**The rain we're having here is sipping into my brain…that is the only apology I have for this short chapter. The only sun I had today was when I watched Ghostfacers…finally SN is back. It was about time.**** Still don't own anything.  
**

**Enjoy.**

**-- **

**CHAPTER 7: **

The Impala stood silently in the cold morning air, pressed between two yellow lines of a parking space. No other cars to keep her company, nothing but a patch of shiny green grass in front of her.

-:-

The storm hit their motel loudly again sometime during the night waking Sam up numerous times, Dean wasn't any better off.

Nothing stops for long. Not even storms. Maybe that is why they say…the calm before another storm.

The bathroom breaks were really starting to get to Sam by then.

"Man, just…, go and sleep in the bathroom." Deans sleepy voice echoed under the thunder.

"You're not serious?" he whined…really he had no other option.

"Deadly." it was muffled by the pillow but the seriousness of the statement was obvious.

"Dean my wrist…"

_Low blow, Sammy. _

A pillow hitting Sam's head was a good enough indication that if he doesn't get his skinny ass in the bathroom, his brother would kill him.

In the end, when everything had gotten way, way too frustrating for the both of them, he had taken his covers and pillow into the bathroom, allowing Dean to catch up on some much needed sleep. And the toiled was closer that way anyway.

Dean knew Sam would be alright in the bathroom, he made sure of it, when he scrubbed it clean when Sam was…out. Why he did that, was beyond him.

Sleeping on the bathroom floor had some advantages like, no more hitting the chairs, closing the door, fighting with the covers, the only downsize of it was, that the bathroom really reeked. He'd opened the window to let some fresh air in, but that had soon made it too cold and the rain had kept flowing in. _I really need to learn to pee in a bottle_, was the only thought that cowered Sam's brain in the stillness of the night. He didn't wanna think about why this was happening. At least not now.

-:-

"Here we are," Dean leaned on his hands, hugging the steering wheel and looked at the building, "nice place."

The building was big. That's the first thing they'd noticed when Dean drove the car in the parking lot because they had to lean forward and look out of the front car window. The three lines of windows rounding the gray walls gave the next clue. The building was three stories high, maybe there was even an attic lurking somewhere between the last line of windows and the gray roof, the cement chipping away, making everything look like it was dying. Taking its last breath. It was in a strange kind of U shape with the trees obscuring the sides of it and the entrance dead ahead daring the visitors to enter. It looked like a castle of some sort. A villa maybe, mansion most likely.

"So, here are the facts," Dean extended his index finger right next to Sam's face, "numero uno; Ryan Hicks, this place and I'm hungry. Second thing, you're visions are always connected to the demon, so this guy has to be connected with him. The third thing is your peeing adventures which are, in my humble opinion, kind of disturbing. Did I forget anything?"

"Do you think me going to the bathroom so much and my wrist has something to do with Ryan?" he asked fidgeting with his torn up jeans.

"Well Sammy, you are all kinds of weird." a small smirk.

"Shut up." and a smile thrown directly at his smirking older brother.

They looked at the building again. It was all kinds of eerie in the morning grayness, with the sun hiding behind the clouds that were stretching behind the structure. It almost seemed like they were trying to swallow it. But they were just leftovers of the storm that raved through the night.

Cold hung low in the air when Dean exited the car. He didn't hear Sam opening the car door so he leaned in and looked at his brother.

His eyes were fixed on the building, his hands held protectively over his stomach, rubbing it in a slow motion, sweat glistering on his forehead, he looked pale, almost lifeless.

"Sam? You coming?"

Sam turned his head towards Dean slowly and plastered on his 'hide the pain' look that Dean could see right through.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

The wind cut through Sam's clothes right to his skin, making him shiver. He stuffed his hands in his brown hoodie, the fabric doing nothing to protect him from the cold.

"I liked it better yesterday." he pulled the zipper up as high as it went and snickered into the hoodie.

"That heat?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you'll get the heat back tomorrow."

"Maybe."

He walked nervously beside Dean through the front yard. Kicking leaves to occupy his mind he was looking at the building. He noticed the bars on the windows. The dark shades covering the glass made it impossible to see inside no matter how hard he strained his eyes.

"Sam, keep your feet to yourself!"

Sam was looking everywhere but at his feet and he stumbled into Dean when he suddenly stopped.

"Sorry."

"Just watch your feet."

Dean saw Sam getting lost, nervous and hurt.

"Well, why did you stop then?" he asked the side of Deans head and followed his eyes.

"Bars on the window." He pointed to the windows. "This is freaky, Sam."

"Protection."

"Protecting what? Us," he pointed to one of the large windows where he thought he saw someone moving but it was just a reflection of a cloud blown away from his position by a breeze, "or them?"

Sam didn't have an answer to that.

Dean gave his brother a smirk that told him to relax, but Sam couldn't do that. Not now, anyway. Not here. Not only minutes from finding out what's wrong with him. Not after Dean pointed on the bars on the windows. Not after asking a really stupid…ly good question.

Protecting who? Us or them? Both probably.

The yard was long if not wide. Trees were rocking slowly in the cold wind. They were big oak trees, old enough to have seen it all. Everything that had ever happened here. And everything that will happen here.

The leaves that the storm ripped from the branches were on the concrete floor, masking the grayness of it. There were brown wooden benches along the path, next to the walls of the building, behind the trees.

"Crap."

"Sam?"

Sam raised his left leg out of a muddy puddle, covered with leaves. It soaked his jeans right up to his ankle.

"God, you really do like getting your pants wet, don't ya'?"

A smirk Dean gave him brought up the anger and shame dwelling in his gut.

"Shut up, Dean." he managed to growl out.

"Just…let's just try and get to the door unharmed, what ya' say, hm Sammy?"

"Shut up," he shook his leg, "and it's Sam."

He pulled his lips into a thin line and walked past Dean with embarrassment shining on his face. He knew Dean wouldn't let it slide. He never was good at that. Letting things, embarrassing things, go.

"Sam, 'm sorry." _'m sorry I forced you to sleep in the bathroom._

Silence met Deans ears and it just plain out hurt. He was an idiot, but hey, at least they both knew that. Sam had to know that, right? He knew he hurt Sam, but the words were out there, no way of getting them back.

"'S alright. Let's just go." he muttered more to his hoodie than to Dean, but he knew his brother heard it.

"I wanna get this over with, Dean."

The words were muffled by Sam's squeaking snickers, the left one full of water, the right one thudding on the wet floor.

Dean sped up behind him and quickly stepped next to Sam's long stride and brushed his shoulder…_'s fine_.

Dean knew Sam was jumpy. Hell, so was he and the dullness of the morning and this stupid building were doing nothing to calm him down.

There were three steps dividing the yard from the porch of the building. They were wide and slightly chipped on the ends, full of leaves and small pools of water. There were some bushes on each side of them, growing like weed over the concrete, spreading their branches in all directions.

They both ran up them, shoulder to shoulder and stopped before a large brown door.

"Knock? Bell? Enter? What?"

Dean was out of ideas. In normal circumstances he would know what to do, but this…this wasn't something they knew what to do with. They always joked about places like this, always feared that they'll end up in one.

"Knock?"

Maybe it was meant as a statement but it sounded more like a question coming out of Sam's mouth.

The door was huge and wooden with some worm holes obscuring the neat lines of growth rings. They were guarded by two lion heads on each side, almost mocking them. Long teeth peering out of their mouths, eyes big and wide looking into the visitors soul.

"Knock it is."

_Always the polite one, aren't you Sammy?_

**--**

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**To the ones who are reading this story, I am sorry I haven't updated sooner. I was at home **_no internet there, blah_** for the holidays and I just came online today. And of course the first thing I had to do was watch the new SPN **_so all is forgiven, right?_**. I hope this chapter is O.K. though, and that in some weird kind of way it was worth the wait. Just a reminder…this story takes place in Season 1, because I just love Season 1. **

**Oh, and I apologize about the mistakes. **

**Enjoy**

**--**

**CHAPTER 8: **

Dean reached his hand towards the door and made a fist. Two lion heads were flashing their teeth, eyes drawn together in anger, daring someone…anyone to enter. It sent a chill down Deans spine.

"Hey, maybe I should knock one of those lions out, huh?"

He turned around and looked at Sam. He plastered on his familiar smirk that visibly relaxed Sam and brought him out of his worry over what they'd find in there.

The door opened with a crack and Sam thought for just a microsecond that the Impala's door was being opened.

"Yes?" came a voice from behind the crack opened door.

After what felt like minutes, a little woman came in their line of sight; a short mop of red curly hair resided on her head, her wide eyes were glistering blue oceans. The little make up she had blended gracefully with her wrinkled skin.

"Hi, we're…"

"Come in boys, its cold outside, you'll catch a cold." she said with a high pitch voice.

She waved a hand in a welcoming gesture, her other hand still supporting the heavy door.

Dean gave Sam a look that Sam interpreted as 'Ooooookkaaaaaayyy, what the hell'?

Sam shrugged and remained standing there like a piece of wood. He was unwilling to move, unable to think, fear already sneaking into him. Everything just felt...off. Sure he dealt with weird things all his life, but this…this was really starting to affect him. It was personal. It became personal the moment 'the accident with the wet pants' happened.

Dean, providing him with some encouragement, tugged his jacket and pulled him roughly inside and stopped him from dwelling over the situation. For now anyway.

They both stumbled inside where they met a huge lobby, white walls, bright lights and a massive staircase right across from them. Their ears met creepy silence, while their nose bathed in the smell of cooked food, alcohol and an all-around hospital smell.

It was cold but still warmer than outside and Sam pulled his hands out of his hoodie. They followed the petite woman all dressed in white with blue nylon stockings decorating her legs. Her skirt was dancing around her little legs, her hips rocking with the sound of her heels tapping on the marble floor until she stopped behind a wide round counter and slipped behind it.

Dean leaned on it with both of his hands while Sam stood behind him.

Sam either felt something wrong or…

"Excuse me," the woman raised her head and looked at him, "could you just point me to your bathroom?"

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"You O.K. honey? You look a little pale."

Her voice gave away her fifty something years of experience.

"Yeah I'm fine. It's just been a long drive you know."

He tried to give her his best 'nothing's wrong' smile that never worked on Dean, but seemed to work on her.

"Just go down this hall," she rose on her tiny little legs and pointed her index finger down the hall on their left, "and then the sixth door on your left. You'll see the sign. Don't worry sweetie."

Dean wanted to throw up with all the sweeties and honeys going on but he knew that, deep down, Sam needed it. He was always the type to need that…a little sugar with a sentence.

"Thank you."

He smiled and walked down the hall.

Dean stared after Sam, noticing his little brother's twitching shoulders and defeated walk. He frowned but then shrugged, deciding to ask about it later and turned to task at hand.

His head turned towards her but his attention never left Sam. He could hear his sneakers squeaking along the marble, see him in his peripheral vision and that presence of sound and blurry figure was the only thing making him concentrate on his job.

"Too much coffee."

He smiled, feeling he needed to offer an excuse for his brother's rather hasty retreat.

She smiled a broad smile stretching from one ear to the other, parting her red lips to show her brownish teeth with some red lipstick still sticking to them.

_Too much coffee for you too, lady_.

"So boys, what brings you here?"

"We came to visit Ryan Hicks." Straight to the point, no need to lie.

"Family?"

"Cousins."

He offered praying it would be okay.

"Aha."

She typed away on an ancient-looking, dusty piece of plastic that was probably a computer. It looked like one anyway.

"Peter and Lucas?"

She turned her wide oceans to his green plains and waited. Sam had disappeared behind a door and that connection was gone. He was on his own now.

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, _whatever_, "we just wanted to see how he's doing."

The lies were just flying out of his mouth, it was the most natural thing for him. Lying is a skill that comes from experience, one that he had plenty of.

"Do you have any ID's?"

"We just came, you know. It was a spur of a moment thing. We left them in our car, I can go and get them," he started to turn around to walk towards the exit, "if you want to see them." He smiled his big 'I'm the boy you want next door and I wouldn't dream of lying to you' look.

She studied him. She probably knew all the lies, had seen all the smiles, and knew every one of those looks.

"No, that's alright. About your cousin I'm afraid he's not improving, his status is still the same. We're doing everything we can to bring him back, but you know," she sighed, "it's a struggle. He had another episode yesterday and we had to sedate him. But he's awake now, so…"

Dean nodded to the information given to him and plastered on his worried look. And he wasn't lying. No one deserved to be sick, hurt, struggling, having 'episodes', being here…

"Can we see him?"

_We really need to see him, lady. _

She was still studying him, trying to penetrate his eyes, define the smile.

_Come on woman, we're nice, ain't gonna hurt you._

"Sure, darlin'." she said with a sweet voice, maybe even with some pity hiding in there.

_Well and I thought that was reserved for Sam._

"Where can we find him?"

_Shit, she's studying me again. God, lady I won't murder him. I might do you in though, if you don't let me see him. _

"Weren't you here already, visiting him?" she raised her eyebrow.

_Crap. Think Dean. Now. _

"Yeah, I just thought that you moved him or something, you know."

"Oh no, of course not dear."

_Uf, good, damage control…checked. _

"He's still up those stairs room 1275."

_Jesus, women how many rooms do you have in this place? _

"Thank you. I'll just go," he pointed towards the way Sam went, "grab my brother."

"The sixth door on your left."

_Yeah lady I got it, if not I'll just look for the sign_.

"There is a sign, you can't miss it."

"Thank you."

_Shoot me._

He left her standing there, felt her eyes on his back while he walked away from her and it crept him out. His boots created a heavy, thumping sound that echoed up and down the hall, matching the thumping of his heart. He kept his eyes trained on the hallway straight ahead, counting the doors.

"This is one long hall."

The words were a mere mutter but they lost their privacy in the echo that followed.

"They all are, you should know that."

He stopped on his track, his heart fell down into the pits of his stomach.

J_eez lady, trying to give me a frigging heart attack_.

"I forgot about it." He rolled his eyes pretty sure she couldn't see that. Like 99 sure.

There was no reply to that and he resumed his walk down the hall.

It was a long one. Miles and miles added up in his head. He smiled to himself as he remembered how Sam almost gracefully ran down the hall toward the bathroom.

_Miracle he made it._

There were windows both sides of the wall, his reflection looking back at him every few steps, the gray morning penetrating into the hall making everything look dead…deader.

The absence of voices or any kind of noise for that matter made his senses tingle.

_Got to get to Sam._

'Looneyville' was the only thought swimming in his mind. The thought of Sam was frontrunner in his mind but today it had a companion.

_Hm, Looneyville and Sam, huh, it fits. _

He wavered from his path towards one of the windows, the worry about Sam becoming louder and louder. The urge to get irrational and start shouting or tearing things down was almost overwhelming, but he had a job to do.

Everything looked like it was fall instead of summer. Leaves on the floor, faded light, no sun, no warmth, just cold and echoing footsteps from somewhere in the distance.

One light turned on in one of the windows, his eyes traveled into the distance where the Impala sat faithfully waiting.

"Hi, baby."

Seeing the car was the only thing keeping him from loosing it. And Sam.

_Need to get to him. _

He smiled as his eyes met the bathroom sign hanging above the door.

_Wow, well, at least she wasn't lying._

He pushed down the handle and opened the door. The smell of urine and some sort of detergent hit him and the combination made him gag.

"Sam."

He closed the door. It was a big bathroom, long and wide. A long line of urinals decorated her right and a line of doors her left wall. The tiles on the floor were a puke inducing green color, a gray and shadowy light coming from the far windows gave the room a grim appearance.

_Not that bathrooms generally are a display of hearts and fountains._

"Sam, come on. Zip up. Let's pay the boy a visit."

Nothing.

"Sammy?"

Silence drowned his heart.

"Sam? Come on. Where are you?"

The worry that crept in his voice was iron hot.

"Sammy?"

Iron hot turned to blind panic.

"Sam!" he tried louder this time.

He began pushing the doors of the cubicles inward and when he opened the fifth door and still saw no sign of his kid brother, the panic broke into a white fear.

"Sammy!!"

Reaching the eleventh door he pushed it in and hit something solid.

"Sam," he fumbled with the door, trying to make his way inside without breaking it down. It was fear and desperation combined with 26 years of honing breaking-and-entering skills that got him inside.

"God, Sammy, hey, hey, Sam."

_Leave you alone for a minute…_

Sam was slouched between the toilet and the wall, sitting on the dirty floor, bundled up in his hoodie. His face was white as the wall behind him used to be, he was sweating buckets of water, his mop of hair plastered to his forehead and blurry eyes blinked slowly up at Dean. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms encircling them.

Dean crouched in front of him and put his hands on Sam's knees both to steady himself and to feel Sam alive and warm.

He could see straight into Sam's eyes, saw the tears gathering, saw him trying to divert his gaze when shame started to crawl in. He glued his eyes to those of his little brother and spoke.

"Sammy, hey. What's wrong?" He tried to sound soft, reassuring, soothing so he lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Dean."

"'S O.K., you're alright, you're fine. What happened?"

He could feel Sam trembling beneath his touch.

"I ah," he drew a breath, "came in here and I just," he let go of his knees and brought his hands up to his face wiping the sweat, _and are those tears Sammy_, "and it hurt."

"Sammy?"

He searched Sam's face looking up and down but Sam showed nothing. Nothing but the constant look of shame and embarrassment.

"Sammy? What?"

He raised his voice, the soft tones doing nothing to help his brother.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter, I'm fine." a response when his brain started to rotate again.

"Sam?"

"'M fine."

He looked at Dean square in the eye and _lied_.

Dean looked at those eyes and, through a painful smile said: "You're not fine, Sammy. I know you. You are so far from being fine, it's not even funny anymore."

Sam lowered his hands and tried to get up.

Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back on the floor.

"Dean, let me go…please."

He wanted to fight, to shrug Dean off, but he was too weak.

Even though the floor was wet and dirty, Dean needed answers. Needed them _now_ and never mind the smell that made him gag more and more as the clock ticked by. Never mind the scattered toilet paper around them, never mind the green mold on the walls near Sam's head. Never mind the leaking toilet, never mind…just never mind.

"Sam you're not fine. You said it yourself. Now tell me what hurt you."

"I'm fine."

He tried once more to get up and Dean shoved him on the floor again.

"Let me go."

"Not until you tell me what hurt you."

He narrowed his eyes in anger, but he knew Sam would see for what it was. A need to know…to make it better.

"Dean, please."

He hoped that his eyes would tell Dean what his voice couldn't.

"Sam."

He let go of Sam's right shoulder and grabbed him carefully by his wrist.

"Is it your wrist? Does it hurt?"

He looked at it. No blood, bandage still tightly wrapped.

_Okay, not that. _

"No more than before." A low growl came out of Sam's mouth and he looked down on his lap.

"Are you gonna make me guess? You'll be sitting on this floor for a long time to come, Sammy, you know how bad I am at guessing."

_Okay, a little lie, I always guess right with you Sam, I just need a clue._

No answer from Sam, whose eyes were still glued to his lap, gave Dean all the encouragement he needed.

"O.K, I'll guess. Did you have a vision?"

Nothing.

"Fine. It's not your wrist."

Nothing.

"You saw a mouse?"

Nothing.

"Someone stepped in here while you were peeing?"

Nothing.

"Ah, you saw an itsy bitsy spider?"

Nothing. Not even a smile.

_Oh this is bad. This has to be something bad._

"Did you," running out of options he shrugged, "slip?"

Nothing.

It was then that Dean noticed where Sam was looking.

"O.K., hmm, did you pee your…"

"It burned when I peed."

He spoke the words with a voice that formed low in his throat and got lost in the small space between them and Sam hoped that it would stay like that. On second thought; it would be better if the floor would just open up and swallow him.

"Sammy."

No wise remarks, no words of wisdom, nothing but the only word that could soothe them both spoken in the same soft whisper Sam's words were.

"Can we just go," he looked up from his lap, still avoiding Dean's searching eyes, "and talk to the boy?"

Dean's mind was occupied at the moment with Sam's words 'It burned when I peed', repeating over and over again like a broken record.

_O.K. it could mean Sam's sick, or it could just be him peeing too much. A doctor, that's what he needs. _

_No, the feds, shit, can't take him to a hospital. How do you fix something like that on your own? Sam's sick, he's hurt, he needs to be O.K. He hasn't had a drink in a while, where's all the fluid coming from? Shit, Sammy what have you, we, gotten ourselves into this time? O.K. think. Sam's visions, the boy, Sam's wrist, him peeing every 15 minutes, give or take, it has to be connected. Jesus, Sammy. O.K., O.K. you'll be fine. I'll fix this, I will just…_

"Trust me Sammy, O.K. You'll be fine, alright?"

He captured Sam's face in between his hands and made him look up.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" He saw that Sam meant it, but had to ask just to be sure.

"Yeah."

"Alright then, let's get you up from this floor and let's pay Ryan a

visit."

"Yeah."

There was something in that word that stopped Dean.

"Sam?"

"I have to…"

"Again?"

Sam nodded. He really didn't want to but the burning sensation was less painful that the pain of a full bladder.

"Alright, I'll wait outside. Just take your time. Don't rush it."

"I know. I just wish it wouldn't burn."

"Just take it easy, alright?"

Dean exited the cubicle with one last glance at Sam and leaned on the small patch of wall dividing the cubicles.

"Sam, I was thinking," he could hear Sam mutter through clenched teeth, probably chewing his lips to divert the pain 'That's never a good thing' and smiled, "I think," _hope more likely_, "that the wrist and the, hm, peeing are tied to Ryan and your visions."

"I was thinking the same thing." He managed to say through a few shallow breaths.

Sam exited the cubicle and went to the basin to wash his hands. As he turned his back to Dean, Dean saw the defeat lurking in his features. His jeans were wet where he sat on the floor and around his ankle where he stepped in the puddle. _Shit, he must be cold._

"Sam?"

Sam turned around from where he was washing his hands and sprayed some water on his hoodie. _Great._

"What Dean?"

"Maybe we should go to the motel, get you changed and come back later."

"What? Get me changed? Am I a baby now?"

"You know what I mean."

"No Dean, we're here, we'll go talk to the boy."

_And then we'll never step in here again._

"You sure? Sam you're not O.K., you can get sick, err, sicker…"

"Dean, please the sooner the better." There was a defiance in the voice, one that Dean could never say no to.

"Alright."

He turned around and heard Sam follow.

**--**

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**I guess in every story there is a chapter that is just blah. You know where nothing happens, but it sort off sets the mood and in the end you're frustrated because you found out nothing and you're no closer to finding answers. I think I reached that point here, and I guess once the point is reached all the other chapters are better compared to this. I don't know, my mind is all weird today so before I start babbling **_even more_** I'll just say one more thing…**

…**enjoy. **

**--**

**CHAPTER 9:**

They walked down the long gray hall towards the nurse that had let them in earlier.

The thump of their boots in unison was the only sound besides their breathing, the rustling of their clothes and the distinct sound of someone tapping on the computer. All the sounds echoed through the hall, stopping briefly in Sam's chest, tightening it, making it harder to breathe.

Dean stopped when he heard a breach in the thump of their boots. Spinning around a bit he saw as Sam staggered towards one of the windows, bracing himself on the window shelf. He stepped closer to him, way closer than would have been allowed under normal circumstances. But this was far from normal with 'Miss Hear to well for her own good' only a few steps away from them. Sam's gaze was fixed on something in the distance, not faltering even when Dean stepped so close to him. His breathing was one of a man running a marathon and loosing. A thin barely noticeable shine of sweat clung to his face, the clouded light from outside made his skin look pale.

Sam's hands were on the shelf, fingers spread wide on the wood and Dean brought his own hand down to mirror his brother's. Their fingers were almost touching and Sam looked at them, shifting his gaze from the distance. His fingers were so different from Deans. His were long, soft end elegant where Dean's were rough and sturdy. And right now, _his_ were trembling whilst Deans were completely calm. He felt his brothers breath tickle his right ear as he spoke words too close to his mind almost inside of his head.

"Sammy. Come on. You have to get yourself together if you want to do this. Just…just focus, just for a little while. We go in, we talk to the kid and get out."

To anybody observing them it would seem like they just stopped to look at the view on the yard where they walked before. Dean was covering Sam's right side so that the woman behind the counter couldn't see anything and he needed to get close to Sam so that she wouldn't hear the words he needed only Sam to hear. He leaned his mouth to Sam's ear and whispered again.

"Sammy, please just focus. I know," he didn't know if he should continue this, but for Sam's sake he would, "it…hurts but we have to get to the bottom of this, you said it yourself. If the boy is connected to you, to what's happening to you, we have to find out. O.K.?"

Dean's words penetrated Sam's brain, the warm breath that came out of Dean's mouth brushed the curls of his hair and he nodded.

"O.K. then. Come on, let's go."

They detached themselves from the shelf and Dean looked out one last time. He saw the Impala waiting there, patiently and…safe. _Just a few more minutes and we'll be back, baby. Just wait for us there, nice and safe. I'll bring Sam, just wait_.

Both smiled their little pretense smile to the lady at the counter and she returned a smile of her own. Dean wanted to see if she overheard his words to Sam, but she averted her eyes too quickly.

"Room 1275 boys." She didn't look away from the computer when she spoke those words with a steady and warm voice.

At that, Sam threw a lopsided smile to Dean that clearly said: 'how many rooms does this building have, anyway' and Dean answered with his own 'don't even go there'. The stairs were wide, slippery and shiny. There was a mahogany fence on their left side that Dean kept clutching.

The climb up the stairs proved to be a little too long.

_Keep Sam safe, 'm hungry, my baby needs gas, 's Sam cold?, this frigging stairs, which room?, need more info on this stupid building, we went here blind, shit, this fence feels nice, need to look out for Sam, he's not doing so good…_

Both men were lost in thoughts that made the walk up the many flights of stairs seem even longer.

_Dean doesn't need to know, my pants are wet, 'm cold, does the car need gas?, room 1275, these stairs are exhausting, need more info on this building, how could we go here blind?, God I have to pee again, crap it hurts… _

The pictures hanging on the wall made the place look a little less alienated, a little less cold. There were pictures of plains, oceans, mountains, animals, doctors that made a real impact on this place, the usual.

"Why are there no people here?"

"Be glad Sammy, I don't wanna explain myself to everyone that crosses my way."

"Yeah you're right, but still…"

"We came here unarmed, lacking information, I know." He was irritated by how stupid they…he could be sometimes. The need to help Sam, to know what's going on, clouded his judgment.

"Dad would kick our ass."

He smiled with a sour smile that did nothing but reminded him there was a whole world behind this building.

"Dad's not here, Dean." And a small puff of air.

"Let's just find the kid, Sam."

"Whatever."

The stairs made a left turn and Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets stretching his hoodie and tucking it closer to his stomach, which didn't go unnoticed by Dean's hawk like eyes. Sometimes Sam thought Dean would spot Sam's actions even if he was hundreds of miles away.

"You O.K.?"

" 'M fine."

"Alright." _be that way._

The stairs were like a never ending spiral of cold stone in Sam's mind. He was cold, his head was killing him, he wanted to lay down and sleep the day away and the pressure on his bladder was increasing with every passing second.

"Dean?"

Dean stopped on the final flight of stairs and looked at Sam.

Something was wrong. _Sam never calls my name if everything's fine. Nothing's fine. Who are you trying to fool, Sammy?_

"Yeah?"

"I, uh, have to…"

"Again?"

Sam could only nod. He was beyond embarrassment, but even _that _he was used to by now, this entire situation was becoming something that just...was.

"God Sammy, where is all that water coming from? You haven't had a drink in ages."

"It's Sam," and a little quieter, "I don't know. And please," he turned to look at Dean, "don't mention water to me again. Or any kind of liquid for that matter."

"No rivers and waterfalls?"

"I hate you."

Seeing Sam like this, not knowing why this is happening, not knowing what to expect…it was driving Dean crazy.

"O.K., hmmm, there's probably a bathroom on this floor, we just have to find it, right?"

Sam nodded and they stepped up from the last stair onto the hallway. _Another hall, just freaking great._

They were greeted with a wide window straight in front of them, looking down on the backyard. When they neared it, they saw a large crowd of people, moving like little black dots among the trees and the rose gardens.

"Well that explains the lack of people." Dean smiled and looked at Sam's miserable form stepping from one foot to the other.

"Bathroom. Right."

They saw a board hanging slightly to their left and they looked at it. 1000-1200 and a little white dart on a blue surface pointing right and 1200-1300 pointing left. There were signs bellow the darts, as Sam could make out the sign for bathroom showed on the left side.

"Left it is." Dean pointed out the obvious, but Sam was way ahead of him, almost running down the hall, checking for signs that would point him towards the toilet.

"Ok then. You just run ahead, then. I'll just wait," the slam of the bathroom door made him twitch, "here."

"You alright, Sammy boy?" Dean needed to know as soon as Sam staggered out of the bathroom.

"'M alright." A small hitch in that statement alerted Dean that Sam was far from being fine. And Sam not correcting him on the 'nickname slip'. _Yup it was getting bad._

"Hurt?"

"Yeah."

Dean raised his head in a half nod. He could see the way Sam walked, could see him widen his step, _this is not good_.

They continued their way towards Ryan's room, watching the tall windows roll away with every step they took.

A door opened somewhere in the distance and a woman stepped out, her heels tapping on the marble sounding like a beat of a heart.

She stuffed her hands in her coat and walked past Sam. She smiled and lowered her head, her shiny blond hair framing her face. A wind of perfume followed her, enveloping Sam in it. He almost forgot about where he is and what's wrong.

"Well…she's a person."

"Can't argue with you on that one, Sammy."

He patted him on his shoulder and pushed him on.

The sun still hadn't come out, the gray morning turning unnoticed into gray noonish hours. The lights on the hall were on, but they were faded, not much light coming out of them.

"You think it'll rain?" casual.

"Maybe it will," a pause, "we talking about water?"

"Yeah, maybe."

_No comment on the water bit, Sam? Odd. _

"You cold, Sammy?"

"It's Sam and just stop Dean. Please. I'm fine. I'll be fine." Sam was getting frustrated, he just wanted to get answers, and the entire 'nice, caring big brother' thing Dean was pulling was getting annoying. He wanted his snarky brother back. Because this, what Dean was doing, made him feel like he was dead already and Dean was just trying to make him comfortable. It sucked.

Dean looked at him and shrugged.

_You weren't fine a minute ago_.

They continued their way down the freakishly long hallway and kept their eyes on the door numbers. When they finally reached 1275 Dean was getting impatient and Sam was getting colder.

"Sam." His name brought him back.

"Sammy." That one made him talk.

"It's Sam and what?"

"We're here."

Sam turned in the direction Dean was looking. The answers they'd been looking for were right behind that door. Hopefully.

"Shall we?" Dean asked his hand already on the door handle.

Sam looked at him and saw a reassuring smile tug Dean's lips up. Or was it a smirk?

**--**

**TBC…**


	10. Chapter 10

**I am so sorry for being so late…I was in Vienna last week and I wanted to put this up last Friday but I always have to check for mistakes and I didn't have time to do that on Friday, and then the final episode of SPN just blew me away (I cried like a baby) and I had nothing coherent to say for like days and then I figured, well no one is reading this so I have time and now…here we are. For all of you who ARE still reading this story (in some weird 'I wanna know what happens next' kind of way)…thank you. **

**Enjoy…**

**--**

**CHAPTER 10:**

The door creaked when Dean pushed them in. A faint glow of light shone directly into his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was a massive barred window right in front of him. The second thing was a figure sitting on the edge of the bed in the middle of the room. His back was turned towards them, hiding his face from the door.

Dean turned around to look at Sam still standing on the hall. He mouthed silently 'come in' and the two steps Sam needed landed him right next to Dean.

Sam looked around the room. He saw Dean stepping closer to the boy from his vision. This was what it came down to…seeing the object of his vision alive and breathing, just sitting there. The only thing that was moving in the room was Dean as he rounded the bed.

Sam sighed and turned his eyes around the room, simply observing it. It was a small space between four walls with a high ceiling, nine feet easily maybe even more, it just looked endless even to Sam. Some spider webs were hanging down from it, dancing slightly in the breeze coming from the hall. Besides the freakishly tall ceiling, the room itself was small and cozy even. The bed was in the middle of the room aligned with the window, where the boy was staring at. There was a big brown closet near the foot of the bed leaving just enough space for someone to walk around the bed. To Sam it looked like a room your grandmother has, all that was missing were some black and white wedding pictures. Old furniture, linoleum floor, an old bed, high ceiling covered with spider webs, and a huge window to round it all. Sam sighed again.

"Hey." Dean called softly as to not to scare the boy, although he was pretty sure their entrance had taken care of that.

Deans voice brought Sam back to the present, to the task at hand. He shivered slightly and looked at the boys back that was rising slowly.

"Ryan?" Dean whispered as he rounded the bed and slowly stepped straight in the boy's line of vision.

He looked at Sam still standing in the middle of the room, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, standing completely still. His eyes were darting from Dean to the boy's back and back to Dean.

Dean shrugged, not knowing what else to say at the lack of response he received from Sam and Ryan.

"Hey, Ryan. We're…" he looked at the boys face and saw the brown eyes Sam mentioned he saw in his vision staring straight through him. He saw that familiar distant look that decorated Sam's face sometimes.

"Ryan?" He waved a hand in front of his eyes and still, there was no response. Not even a blink. He looked at Sam who still hadn't moved a muscle.

"Sam."

Okay, it was a little harshly said but he needed Sam here. Now.

"Sam, focus."

"Ah, yeah." He stepped to the edge of the bed and took Ryan's chart in his hands. He flipped through the pages of white paper, making soft rustling sounds.

"Sam, I don't think he knows we're here." He crouched in front of Ryan's face and looked at him.

"Yeah I figured that much."

He raised his eyes from the heap of paper in his hands to look at Dean.

"What's wrong with him?" he waved his hand in front of the boys face.

"Well…" he cleared his throat.

"Sammy," Dean gently grabbed the boys right hand and showed it to Sam, "look."

"I see." Sam swallowed the lump in his throat that formed as his eyes landed on the white bandage.

"When do you think it happened?"

Sam looked at the boys chart, scanning the information written in gibberish. Nothing made sense to him but a few pill names and the usual numbers. On the third page he found it. Written loud and clear.

"Um, well, ah," he scratched the back of his head and Dean's 'spit it out, Sam' brought the rest of the words, "yesterday."

Dean's eyes widened and he swallowed the thick ball of saliva those words made in his throat.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"Yeah."

There was silence for a few seconds and Dean lowered the boys hand slowly to where it had been and stood up.

"O.K, so what's wrong with him exactly?" he patted his jeans, cleaning his hands from the sweat that came out of nowhere.

"Well, from what I can figure out from this," he raised the chart once more, "he has fits sometimes. He starts yelling out of the blue that he's somewhere else, you know, not here. And he says someone is doing something to him."

Dean shifted and looked at the boy again.

"They shoved some pretty strong meds in him to make him like this."

"Catatonic, you mean?"

"Yeah. I guess they figured that as the easiest way to help him. To keep him like this. It says here he had a fit yesterday, where he cut his wrist…"

"So he's freshly medicated?" Dean jumped in.

"Yup."

"O.K. does it say how long he stays," he lowered his head to look at the kid's face, "like this?"

"No. The meds are pretty strong from what I can read from this, but it doesn't say…"

"So we can't get any information from him?"

"No."

"Alright," he slid his hand over his mouth, "well we know what's wrong with him, but we still need more. Him yelling that he's not here and that someone is telling him things, it could just be that he's nuts…"

"Yeah, but it could mean that he's not and…maybe we should talk to his family. You know…"

"Yeah, let's go do that. Does it say anything about his family in there?"

"Don't worry 'bout that. We found him here, we'll find his family. The internet is a wonderful thing, Dean."

"Sure Sammy."

Sam let the name slide because he was preoccupied with something on the chart.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"He's only fifteen."

Dean made his best 'what?' look he could muster at the moment.

"We'll talk to his family and we'll see what they have to say, alright? Let's just go out of here. This place gives me the creeps." he shrugged and scrunched up his nose in disgust.

"Yeah, right." He put the chart back where he found it and came to stand next to Dean. He looked at the kid sitting there, his wide brown eyes shining in the light, the distant look, his brown hair neatly cut, his mouth partly open drawing in breaths that shook his whole body.

"Ryan," he whispered trying not to scare the boy, "it'll be alright."

He wasn't sure why he said that, but he just felt he needed to say it.

There was nothing on Ryan's face that would indicate that he heard it or that he even knew there were people in the room. There was emptiness in those eyes that scared Dean, but Sam saw fear and pain there.

"Sam come on, we have to go." he tugged on Sam's hoodie and pushed him towards the door.

**--**

**TBC…**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm suffering from hot and sunny days, so excuse me if this is short…computer does noting for me right now, so I live my days at the beach…the smell of fish and salt, ah nothing better to clear up your mind, lol. Kidding, but it does wonders for your sinuses, though. **_Smiles_**, khm, so before you all conclude that I'm nuts…**

**Enjoy…**

**-- **

**CHAPTER 11:**

The exit from the building was fairly easy and Dean felt the weight roll of his chest when he stepped through the door into the cold afternoon air. They spend the whole morning inside and although it felt good to be outside, the older brother now became aware once more of the chilly wind that was currently blowing through the yard. The storm last night had done nothing but chase away the calming heat. A cold summer day was far worse than a hot one. Heat in the summer meant normal, cold meant…cold was just plain unnatural.

Sam cuddled into his hoodie, losing himself into the warm fabric. Deant knew Sam was cold but there was nothing he could do about it now.

They passed some of the people they had seen in the backyard earlier when they'd been walking down the stairs. Some of them were smiling sour smiles, some were having a nice chat with themselves, some were gloomy looking, some were digging their eyes at them, and Sam averted his eyes at the stairs. The nurses smiled at Dean as they walked past him. He noticed Sam's eyes on the floor, his slouched shoulders, the wide walk and a wet spot on his jeans from the time he spend on the bathroom floor. _Will that ever dry? _

They were strolling along the yard, trying to get to the Impala as soon as possible, just to feel safe again. This place with its enormous walls and windows and ceilings and trees did nothing else but steal that little ounce of safety they both possessed. But they were together and a feeling of safety or not, they had a job to do. Their Dad drilled that into their little heads and what a little head learns a big head never forgets.

Sam felt it building in his head the second he stepped three feet from the stairs. That familiar feeling of dread and pressure only allowing one word to slip from his lips: "Dean!"

"Sam?" the scream Sam tore from his mouth scared the crap out of Dean and he spun around to see Sam clutch his head and close his eyes.

"Sam, come on."

He grabbed Sam's shoulders and his brothers hands shot up to clutch his jacket, scraping the skin on his chest with their ferocity. He pushed Sam toward one of the benches and gently lowered him. He could feel the strength seeping out of Sam, so he kept him seated on the bench. Sam's hand was still grasping his jacket, knuckles turned white.

"Sammy, hey."

But Sam was lost.

-:-

A figure shifted in the far corner of the room, dragging darkness with it. Its eyes were glued to the boy sitting on the bed, staring into nothingness. It stepped closer, dragging its feet slowly along the floor, stumbled a few times, legs tired and sore from lack of use.

"Hey Ryan. How's it hangin'?"

It whispered with its hoarse voice, that hadn't been used properly in ages. Its throat was bruised and sore, its vocal chords ripped apart, but still it produced a voice sounding sound. The letters were cracked, poorly dragged out of its mouth.

It moved closer to Ryan's face and grabbed him by his shoulders, its long gray finders digging into the flesh there. It pushed him down on the bed and crawled above him. It leaned its head to his left ear and whispered: "Does the cut hurt?" laughed a silent laugh, "I bet it hurts."

It shifted and leaned its mouth to Ryan's right ear tickling Ryan's neck with its cold breath that stunk of decaying leaves and dried seaweed.

"You know what they did to me, when I cut it?"

Its hands traveled down the boys hot arms, leaving slight goose bumps in its trail, but the boy didn't move. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, the man's black hair obscuring his vision a little. The stray hair in Ryan's line of sight ran parallel with one long crack on the ceiling.

It stopped its cold, sandpaper like hands at the kid's wrists and squeezed. The stitches broke under the pressure and Ryan didn't even twitch.

He could fell the man's breath tickle his ear, the cold seeping in his mind, and when the man disappeared he blinked.

"_Leroy."_

-:-

_The bench is wet, just a bonus to his already wet pants, he's gonna get a freaking cold, _"Sam?!", _he has to have a vision right now, sure why not, not like we're in a hurry or anything, _"Sammy?", _when will it end, come on you son of a bitch let go of my brother, _"Sam? Come on", _I would help Sam, I really would, I just don't know how, _"Sammy, wake up!"

"Dean we have to help him!"

The scream made Dean loose the steady grip he had on Sam, but found his hand falling back to Sam's shoulder instantly. He was crouching before Sam, one hand on the younger man's knees to steady them both, and the other one on Sam's shoulder.

"O.K., O.K., we'll help him, alright?! We will…"

"No, now. Dean!" Tears were evident in Sam's eyes, but they never fell. They just lingered on the edges of his eyes, daring Dean to speak. The pain filled his voice that cracked on a few letters he spoke.

"Sam you can't…"

"Now, Dean." _Please._

Dean pulled his hand over his mouth and looked at Sam. He saw the silent plea in those teary eyes.

He looked around, trying to avoid them, and saw lights going on and off in some rooms encircling them. There were no shadows to be seen, no indication of anyone even being in the room, but the lights were flickering like mad. They both felt that they were being watched, the eyes were so hot they could have easily been tattooed on their backs if that would make people happy. They were used to getting stared at or talked about behind their backs, but this gaze they felt was overwhelming.

"Sam you can't even..." he scratched his hand over his cheek, "what did you see?"

Sam was already pushing himself to shaky feet and he staggered on the path towards the building.

Dean rose up from his position and walked behind him, catching him in two long strides.

"Sam, what did you see?" It was the full out demand in that voice that stopped Sam.

He turned around and looked down at Dean's face.

"It was Ryan and a man, and ah," he stared into Dean's concerned eyes, "he was leaning over him…"

"What like a ghost or something?" Dean interrupted.

"I don't know. It could be a ghost or it could be a real man. I didn't see it so clearly. And he said something about the cut on his wrist and, ah," he gripped his head, "God my head…"

"Sam, your bandage…"

"What?" He panted and looked at his wrist. There was a line of red there.

"I…"

"O.K. Sam, 's fine."

"The stitches broke." He said defeated and kept his hands on his temples applying pressure. It was the only thing that contained the pain long enough for him to speak.

"Yeah. Look, why don't we just go back to the motel and you let me take a look at it and then we'll figure this out. Your pants are wet, you're gonna freeze." Knocking on Sam's rational side again. But this time…it didn't work.

"We have to go and check him out. I won't bleed to death, O.K.?"

"That's what you say now. You already decorated a few sheets with your blood. Sam, come on let's just go." Dean pleaded.

"Dean, just a look if he's fin…ah, o God."

"Sammy?" Dean's hands shoot up to grab Sam by his shoulders.

"I'm fine."

"Sam come on, we're going. We'll come back tomorrow.""

"There was a name."

"What name?" Dean's eyes widened.

"Leroy. I think."

"You think?"

Sam nodded.

"O.K., well, I guess at this point we'll take what we can get, right?"

Sam nodded, feeling that talking would be just too much. Even nodding proved to be too much strain on his head, but to actually speak? He would throw up this week's meal, he was sure of it.

"Let's go, Dean."

Sam turned around the moment of weakness faded, the strong lines of his face showing nothing but determination and Dean could do nothing more but to follow him. He'd just lost against his baby brother. Again.

**--**

**TBC…**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm so sorry for all the mistakes and yes, that's all I own. **

**Just…**

…**enjoy.**

**--**

**CHAPTER 12:**

The afternoon was the same as the morning. They'd been at this shady place for almost the whole day now and aside from having had thoroughly enough of the depressing atmosphere of this place, Dean's stomach was, by now, begging to be fed. Hamburgers, sausages, French fries and apple pies were swimming in his mind. The fried chicken collided with the thought of Sam, and that made him look at his brothers back.

Sam was no better off, but the mere thought of food turned his stomach upside down. He ignored the grumble in his stomach and walked on.

Dean was right behind Sam, keeping his eyes on his brother's back, his hands on alert just in case Sam should…fall, stumble, stagger or anything else out of the ordinary. He wanted to touch his brother, to help him, but he knew Sam would shrug it off. He was a big boy now. A big boy with things happening to him that took the youth away from him. Snatched it and ran away with it.

Sam tripped over his feet as a strange wave of cold rushed up and down his spine. It was as if ice was seeping from between his shoulder blades.

-:-

_Water filled with ice, floating on the sun glazed surface. A hand was pouring more ice into the already filled bathtub. Some of it fell out, braking in the hard concrete floor. _

_Hushed voices, ice dropping into the water, cold too overwhelming to even think about it. _

-:-

"Sam?" He splayed his hand on Sam's back, right in the middle. It was the heat from the hand that made Sam lean on it.

"'M fine."

_Sure you are._

They walked slowly towards the building and Dean knew that whatever had happened, it had happened long ago and there was no way they were going to be able to help the boy today. But Sam was adamant. When he got something in his head, there was no way to pull it out of him. It was like an invisible force that made him act on his visions, help people in anyway possible. Never mind what that could do to his own...health.

The wind was picking up speed again. Twirling around their bodies, making Sam hide in his hoodie and Dean stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. And that meant he had to let go of Sam's back leaving him with one last pat.

His wrist was throbbing alongside his heartbeat, he could feel the blood sipping out of the cut. It was hot at first but as soon as it touched the bandage it became cold. His wished he could detach his head for just one second, just long enough for him to breathe. The only thing keeping him afloat was the lack of pain in his bladder. He hoped that meant everything was alright…in that department at least. He could still feel the burning sensation and he had to widen his step which kind of made him waggle more than walk but anything was better than the pain.

-:-

_A hand splayed on the edge of a bathtub, clutching it with white frozen knuckles. The water was spilling over the edge, dripping on a pair of black shoes. _

"_That's what you get when you misbehave, Leroy."_

_Leroy wanted to say something, but all his senses were on overload and then everything went numb. _

-:-

And he was cold. And getting colder by the minute. Oh there it was…the sensation of his bladder filling up. _Crap._

He needed to get answers and Ryan had them. One way or the other, pain or no pain, headache or no, he had to get answers. The only problem was that Ryan was catatonic. No way in hell was he getting any information from him. In words that is. The visions…they were a means of…

"Knock or enter?"

The voice brought him back.

"Huh?"

"Enter it is."

Dean got a strange sensation of knocking those lions on the door to death, but he got distracted when a drop of water landed on his head. _The damn rain._ He opened the door with a force that nearly knocked the nurse behind the counter out of her chair.

The smells and the silence once again hit their senses and Sam closed his eyes for a second just to keep yesterday's breakfast down.

They almost made it to the stairs…

"Boys?"

The voice startled them and Dean turned around and plastered on his best smile.

"Hi, we're just…"

"…we forgot to give Ryan something from his mom. She asked us to give him…something."

_Good Sam, nice one. _

"Oh."

_Yes lady, oh. _

"So we'll just go up. Room 1275 down the long hall." Dean took over as he saw Sam lower his head.

_It must be bad if he's showing weakness like this._

He placed his hand on Sam's back and pushed him up the stairs. Through the touch he could feel every shaky breath Sam managed to pull in.

"'S O.K., Sam." He didn't know why he said it, he just felt it needed to be said. By him. And the fact that Sam didn't pull away, didn't shrug it off…well 'nuff said.

The stairs were pure torture for Sam. Dean was practically pushing him up them, and his toes kept hitting the back of the stairs, he was sure if Dean would push him harder he would break a toe.

That was the moment the sweat came. First it was just moist on his face, after the fifteenth stair the moist turned magically into drops and after the twentieth stair the collar of his shirt was soaking wet.

The hall was exactly the same as it was before, the only difference was a mass of people walking, well rather dragging their slipper covered feet up and down it.

"Well, at least we have proof of life here."

Sam smiled at his brothers attempt to lighten up the situation and shivered slightly drowning in his hoodie. Dean never let go of his back, even now when Sam obviously didn't need to be pushed up the stairs.

"Sam? You cold?"

_Of course he's cold, he wears his hoodie like it's a second skin. _

"Nah, 'm fine."

-:-

_The hand disappeared under the surface with a splash. A scream was muffled with a gurgling sound as water invaded his mouth. Strong hands held his shoulders, losing their fingernails in the soft flesh there, not letting go. He could barely feel his heartbeat and he pulled all his strength into looking for it. When he found it thumping in his throat, he clung to it. It was the only thing keeping him…alive._

-:-

"You're cold Sam, I can feel it."

"Well, let go of me and you won't feel it anymore." he snapped and the nanosecond the words left his mouth he regretted them. It wasn't Deans fault he was cold, that his wrist had gone numb and that the throbbing in his head was hitting another level of pain. It wasn't Deans fault he was having visions, it wasn't his fault he hurt, it wasn't his fault he was thirsty. He could drink a bucket of water right now, and it still wouldn't be enough. And that scared him. Water? No, no water, no liquid of any kind. At some point he actually wished he wouldn't have to swallow the saliva in his mouth, he wished he could just spit it out…just no liquid. Not now, not ever.

-:-

_The breath was ripped from his lungs, eyes closed shut as to not see the sun splaying its rays on the water surface. His hands hit the ceramic edges of the tub, grazing his knuckles to the point of bleeding. The red color flew like a veil onto the surface, and he felt the hands let go. _

-:-

He felt Deans hand slide off his back and he got struck with a strange feeling of need. A need for that hand to get back to where it had been. To bring back the warmth that was now replaced with ice chips gliding up and down his spine.

-:-

_He emerged on the surface and drew in a breath. His teeth were clattering and he chipped a tooth. His whole body was shaking as his muscles tried to hide into themselves, the pain of the spasms drew him on the edge of consciousness. _

-:-

He left out a shaky breath and continued to walk next to Dean to Ryan's room. One excruciating bathroom brake later, they once again found themselves standing in front of the white door.

-:-

_He had no idea how he got to bed. But here he was, splayed on it, the sun on his chest, slowly warming him up. The blood was flowing freely over his wrist, onto the floor. Drip by agonizing drip. _

-:-

**--**

**TBC…**


	13. Chapter 13

**I am leaving you with this chapter for a while, because I have exams and I have to study and I won't have time to write. Which is crap, because I have so many story ideas and I have no time to write them down. I hate studying, hate it. It takes the time away from more important things, like writing. Oh, well, what can we do, right? **

**But fear not, I have a few chapters written in advance, and I only have to write 3-5 chapters more to finish this story. I know exactly where I wanna take this so I will finish it. Besides I promised that I'll finish the story. And I'm so excited for the next few chapters, where the story finally gives some answers **_evil grin_**. Thank you so much for reading and see/read you in the end of the month. Or maybe sooner, if I'll get annoyed with studying. Gotta love University. **

**Enjoy…**

**--**

**CHAPTER 13: **

Nothing had changed in the room since they'd left. The smell of disinfection and food still lingered in the air, the bars on the windows laughing at the still body lying on the blue covers of the bed.

The boys chest was rising up and down slowly, a hitch in his throat disrupting the steady breathing every now and then.

His eyes were strictly focused on the ceiling, and Dean caught himself looking up at it, expecting to find the cause of this whole situation but seeing nothing. Nothing except a water stain in the shape of Ted Nugent and a long crack splitting it in two (the ceiling, not Ted Nugent) At least... he _hoped_ that was a water stain. It looked a little too red to be water. _O.K…enough._

His eyes went back to the too still boy. It looked like someone had just pushed the kid to lie down. His feet were on the floor beside the bed, his hands dead by his sides. He was just there. Existing, but not a part of the world.

Sam stepped around the bed and stood above the kids body, his feet next to Ryan's.

"Dean," he looked at his brother still standing by the closed door, "I saw _Leroy _doing this to him…"

"O.K."

"…he came and pushed Ryan down like this and he started talking to him."

"What did he say?" Dean stepped a step closer.

"I, ah…something about what they did to him when he cut himself, or something like that."

"What did they do to him?"

"I don't know." He looked at Dean, standing there with big eyes and saw him shrug.

Silence filled the room as Sam watched the boy. The familiar sound of a leather jacket moving reminded Sam that he wasn't alone in the room. His mind slipped for a second to _Leroy_, and what he saw him do to Ryan.

"I won't hurt you."

Sam said to the lifeless body, not exactly sure why he said it. It's not like Ryan could hear him. But somehow he couldn't help himself. He extended his hands toward Ryan's but as soon as he came in contact with the boys skin, all he felt was cold.

"Sam?"

He heard his name, felt a hand on his shoulder and the cold was gone.

"Sam? Wha…?"

"I just…'m fine." he groaned.

He felt Deans hand slip away and the cold returned, slowly crawling up his body, worming its way into his skin, his blood. He felt goose bumps raising on his arms, a protest of his body to whatever was happening to it and he clenched his jaw to prevent his teeth from clattering. The pain in his head was slowly fading, leaving only a chill in the corners of his mind.

He ignored the tentacles of cold crawling in his body and pulled the boy into a sitting position. He was limp, like someone took all the bones from his body. His head lolled to Sam's shoulder.

"It's alright."

He whispered into Ryan's ear and grabbed him by the side of his head to pull him up. He wasn't sure Ryan heard him but he felt the need to say it nevertheless. He pictured himself in this boy's position. Things that you couldn't explain surrounding you, invading your body, strange hands touching you. Even though he couldn't _make_ Ryan trust him, somewhere inside his freezing mind, he knew Ryan didn't think of them as threats.

Ryan's head was inches from his own and he got a close look at his eyes. They were the same as in his vision, brown, big and scared. His breath was coming out in pants now, grazing Sam's nose. There was a tear stuck in the corner of the boy's right eye, threatening to fall.

"Dean?"

Dean heard an invitation in the way his name was spoken and stepped closer to Sam.

"Look at his eyes." Sam whispered and nudged his head towards Ryan's. Dean leaned his head closer to see the wetness in them, that had not been present when they'd left the boy before.

"Maybe the meds are working off."

He retreated his head and shrugged.

"Yeah, maybe." Not really convinced.

When Sam was sure Ryan's head would stay up and still, he looked at the boy more closely.

He was wearing a gray T-shirt and white pajama bottoms. His skin was pale and clammy. It was like a replica of Sam's. Albeit smaller.

Sweat was making its way down Sam's face, and he wiped it away impatiently, wincing when some of it made its way through the bandage. He felt the blood stop running, and he was thankful for that.

He ran his hands ghostly light down Ryan's arms, his eyes followed. He had to check if there was any damage _Leroy_ had done, and as he came to the wrists, he saw some faint burn marks. Like someone grabbed hold of the sensitive area there and squeezed with burning hands. He slid his fingers over the marks and noticed they were in a shape of a hand.

"Dean, look."

Dean leaned closer over Sam's shoulder to take a look and made a hissing sound.

"No wonder the kid is tearing up. That has to hurt."

"Yeah."

Sam picked up the kid's bandaged hand and saw it was as bloody as his own. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the site and shivered. A cold breeze swirled around his body making him close his eyes. He needed to steady himself before he fell down, so he squeezed Ryan's hand tighter over the burned marks. The tear fell over the boy's pale cheek but he didn't make a sound.

"Sam?"

Dean saw Sam close his eyes and tighten his grip, the tear that fell down Ryan's face didn't go unnoticed.

"Sam?" A little louder this time and Sam opened his eyes.

He felt Deans hands on his shoulders and he got warmer in an instant.

"'m fine." He cleared his throat and looked at Dean standing next to him.

"Sam come on, let go of the kid and let's get out of here."

"He's hurt, we can't just leave him here."

"Sam, O.K., we'll tell the nice nurse downstairs and she'll fix him up, O.K.?"

"Yeah."

He let go of Ryan's hands and stayed there on the spot, not showing any inclination to walk away.

"We're going to the motel, so that I can fix you up. You lost a lot of blood Sam…...we're going."

"Dean…"

"We'll look up more info on this place on Ryan and Leroy or what's his name."

"Dean we have to…"

"Sam, Ryan can't tell us anything. He probably doesn't even know we're here, I mean look at him," he pointed to the boy sitting boneless on the bed, "Sam, we're going. Now."

Dean made up his mind and that was it. Sam did not get a say in this. They were leaving, even if he had to drag Sam out kicking and screaming. He grabbed Sam by his hoodie and pulled him roughly towards the door.

Sam didn't have the strength to fight back. He was sore, tired, he needed a bathroom, the sweat on his skin itched and the cold…the almost numbing cold, was starting to take its toll. He could barely drag his feet down the hall. If it wasn't for Deans steady hand on his back he would have landed facefirst on the marble floor. He was grateful for Deans never ceasing support but every place Dean touched burned white hot. He wanted to shrug it off, but he knew he couldn't tolerate the cold and he would rather have the pain than the absence of Dean's guidance.

They went unnoticed by the nice nurse on their way out only, Dean was sure, because she wasn't in her usual place.

"Ryan? We have to tell he's hurt." Sam whispered to Dean as they made their hasty retreat out of that place.

"They'll find him. When it'll be diner time of something. He's O.K, he's not hurt that much. He'll be fine." He pushed Sam towards the door, pushed him down the stairs and down the path. The eyes were on them again, they both felt them, scorching their backs and Dean pushed all the more harder almost making Sam fall.

"Dean?" came the breathy whisper from Sam.

"Just…let's get to the car."

_Sam let's just get away from here, please. I have to take care of you, Ryan'll be taken care of, he is in a hospital, they do that in hospitals, ya know. _

'Thank God' was his first thought as he opened the Impala's door. _Promised we'll be back_ came a whisper in the back of his mind as he slid behind the wheel, gripping it, never wanting to let go. He looked at Sam to see how he's doing and saw him squeezing his eyes shut.

Sam felt eyes on him, knew it was Dean checking him out and his stomach rolled. He didn't want Dean to see he's weak and hurting. Not right now. He just wanted to hide under a pile of blankets and sleep. No big brother protecting mode, that sometimes scared the crap out of him, no ghosts, no catatonic people, no creepy buildings with eyes burning into you, no need to pee every few minutes. He wanted to hide from the world. He blushed.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Just, drive Dean." _Please._

It was a strange feeling being in the Impala. A feeling of home. The smell of leather and greasy burgers from the trash on the back seat, made the Impala smell like home made chocolate cookies Jess used to make to Sam, and apple pie Mom used to make to Dean.

But it was home. A little pleasant home…that was driving a little too fast and a little too long.

"Dean stop."

"Sammy?" All alarms went on in his head, alarms he didn't even know he had.

"I just have to take a leak." He muttered into the window.

"Oh." _Just that?_

"Can you hold it for 5 minutes longer? There's a gas station near and she needs gas so…"

The look Sam shot in his direction told him that if he didn't stop, he would be cleaning the seats tonight. _Well, Sam would be._

Trying to avoid that little scene, although it would have been kind of funny, he pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road and watched as Sam staggered out of it.

Dean followed him silently and lingered as far away from Sam to still see him but at the same time give him some privacy. He saw him slouch his shoulders and clutch at the tree trunk, chipping away some of the bark with his left hand. He leaned his head on the tree and mumbled something incoherent but Dean knew. It was a curse and a whisper for help.

He twisted his head into his arm resting on the tree and left out a sob.

Dean heard it and took a step back. He watched Sam, standing there holding to the tree like a life line. Saw how his fingers dug into the bark and how he hid his face into his hoodie.

And all the effort Sam took to hide his discomfort, the fabric couldn't hide a small hiss followed by a moan that escaped his mouth and Deans heart sank. He barely got a chance to pull it from his stomach after the whole bathroom scene in Looneyville, and now he lost it again.

He wanted to call out for Sam, but he knew that would only embarrass his brother. An embarrassed Sam meant a retreating Sam. And he couldn't afford a retreating Sam right now.

"It still burns?"

He couldn't keep his mouth shut for long though. Not when he saw Sam sit back on the seat agonizingly slow.

The younger brother stretched his long legs and looked at the direction the question came from, his attention on his brother now, instead of the pain.

"Yes." His face flamed up into a bright red.

Dean saw the moist in Sam's eyes, saw the blush that spread on his cheeks. _Sammy, it'll be fine, you'll see, I promise._

Sam shivered which didn't go unnoticed by his annoying and pushy brother.

"You cold?"

"Some."

_What is that supposed to mean? It's a yes and no question, Sam, there is no 'some' in that question._

Knowing that saying that out loud would only lead to an angry Sam, he decided that 'some' was simply a college-education type of word for 'yes' so he cranked the heater up a bit.

"Gonna get gas?"

"We have to get you back to the motel, Sam. You're…" he tried for a gentle approach and was cut out by: "The car needs gas, Dean. You know we have to be ready to go at any second. Always take precautions, as you always say."

"Sam, you're not O.K." he looked at Sam, pinning him down with his eyes, trying to make him understand that he's not O.K.

"What will you be able to do about it when we do get back to the motel?"

_What is that supposed to mean, Sam? _

"What?"

"I need some air." He huffed out and turned his gaze out the window.

"You were just outside."

"I…"

"What?" he hissed in annoyance.

Sam didn't know why he wanted Dean to stop at the gas station. The only thing he knew was that he was cold and needed some air to breathe. Being in the Impala heated him up to a comfortable cold, and now he just needed to breathe some fresh evening air.

"…just need air."

Dean turned his head to Sam's direction and did a quick survey. Sam was slouched down on the seat, his knees pressed to the dashboard, his skin glistering in the fading evening light. He held his hurt arm over his stomach, the other one laid twitching on his thigh.

"Well, we do need gas, and I'm hungry as hell," he saw Sam's eyes widen, "and get some water."

"Yeah." He tried to overhear the 'water part', but his bladder heard it laud and clear.

"You sure?"

"The bleeding stopped, I'm not cold as much and I have to piss again."

"Alright then."

Little brother won again.

The grayness of the day eventually turned into a beautiful sunset. Red and orange shone in the horizon somewhere far, far away from this God forsaken place. The sky was bleeding a light that shone on the black car making it look white as Dean pulled into the gas station.

He turned off the engine and for a second it seemed like everything stopped. There was a soothing silence in the car briefly interrupted by Sam's slow and measured breaths and the sound of hands sliding over jeans. Dean was nervous, Sam could tell.

"So?" Dean started.

"I'll go to the bathroom, you get the gas." Sam finished.

One look at Sam and he saw a slight flicker of fear run along his face but it was gone before he even acknowledged it.

"I'll be fine, God, Dean just give it a rest. I'm not gonna liquefy or something."

"Well you might do something."

Dean sighed and the annoying sound made Sam shiver.

"O.K., be here in five, or I'll leave your ass here, got it?"

Sam didn't answer as he staggered out of the car and down to where the sign pointed out was the toilet.

It was a beautiful summer evening. Bright and easy with yellowish sun bleeding light red over the horizon. After the grayness of the day it seemed an appropriate way to end it. Dean stayed behind and watched his brother walk off into the distance, widelegged and bowed into his hoodie like a turtle.

"Sammy, you're fine, sure you are…my ass you are." He muttered to the gas pumping into his baby.

Walking into the store he was greeted by loud laughter coming from a black haired man that was slumped over the counter. He was leaning on an open comic book, his elbows crumpling the paper. He flipped a page and continued laughing at something hidden on the pages. Dean thought the man was more of a type to be looking at the pictures rather than reading the text in the clouds. Not giving the man another look, Dean lost himself among the shelves.

"Water, M&M's, pump no. 1 and chips. Anything else?"

"No, thanks."

"Alright that'll be…"

But one glance out the dirty window sent Dean into a haze state of panic. He threw some dollars on the counter, and ran out of the store, hitting his palm on the glassy door.

"Keep the change." were the words that echoed through the store and the man retreated his eyes on the comic.

**--**

**TBC…**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi I'm back… I'm really in a good mood today, really. I only have two more exams to take and it's summer and it's hot and the sea is cold and the ice creams are delicious and because I can't share all that with you, I thought I would share a new chapter. I'm sorry if it's not good, I tried my best under circumstances. **

**Oh and I need a beta **_is shy._** My beta went on holidays and I don't want to bother her, so…I only have a few chapters to write of this story and I need someone to check my spelling and other things…or else you'll be suffering from flaws and mistakes. **_smiles_** I won't bother you much, I just need someone to check my mistakes. If you know someone who would be able to do that, I would really appreciate it… I have no idea how this things work, so you know…help?! **_Puppy dog eyes_

**Well, enjoy…please**

**--**

**CHAPTER 14: **

Dean ran out on the soft evening air, leaving the store clerk to his comic and quickly made his way towards the bathroom he saw Sam go to earlier.

"Sam, I told you five minutes!" he called when he came around the corner.

When the angry sentence brought no response he tried again: "Sam?" With a little fear to that name, but still…no response.

He knocked on the door, a small brown piece of broken wood and didn't wait for a reply. He tried to twist the doorknob but it didn't budge.

"'M coming in. You decent or not…"

A kick at the door send him almost twirling into the room, splinters flying around the place.

"Sam?! Sammy!"

His eyes didn't adjust to the dim light right away and that send him into a frantic calling for his brother.

When his eyes gave him the permission to see his brother he wished he could have stayed blind for just a microsecond more.

It was a small one toilet and one sink-kind of a room, just big enough for one person to fit in it, not two _and_ a broken door.

And it smelled. Bad. Dean gagged and put the back of his hand to his mouth. The walls were dressed in light yellow tiles, the floor solid concrete and the toilet, as far as Dean could see, was stuffed with things he did not want to take a closer look at and some…paper.

Somewhere among the mess was his brother's form, cramped between the toilet and the little sink that was filled with black hair and some yellowish snort looking thing.

"Sammy, God."

He stepped one short step toward Sam and crouched in front of him.

He took Sam's head between his hands and raised it. His cheeks were clammy, his hair plastered to his forehead, eyes half open and unfocused. He slid his left hand to Sam's forehead, slowly raising Sam's mop of hair and felt only cold.

_No fever. That's a good thing, right? _

Sam's whole body was shaking but where Dean's hand touched him, he felt warm, hot, here. The touch was like a calling from a place he knew he should go to but didn't have the strength to.

"Sam? Hey, look at me."

-:-

_Leroy lying on the bed, shaking, freezing…_

-:-

He tried to coach, but Sam's head was swaying on his neck, no leverage, no strength to keep it upright. Dean held tighter, almost squishing Sam's cheeks but he needed some sort of a response from the kid. If only to put his own mind at ease.

"Sam, come on. Look at me."

-:-

_Eyes almost dead to the world, looking at the ceiling but seeing nothing. Frostbites along his hands, his lips dark blue._

-:-

He lowered his eyes to meet Sam's, when they opened in full, revealing the brown darker than chocolate.

"Focus, come on." A little desperation, a little worry, maybe even some annoyance because…_come on why does this shit have to happen to Sam?_

Sam blinked slowly trying to adjust to the cold seeping into him through every pore.

"Sam? Did you have a vision?"

_Need to know, Sammy 's all_.

A moan reached Dean's ears and he knew it came not as an answer to his question but as an involuntary response to him shaking Sam's head.

"Sam? Vision?"

Sam's lack hand, that left her previous position in his lap, shot up and grabbed his right wrist.

"Sam?" he lowered his voice, for Sam's ears only. Not that it was anyone around, it was just instinct.

-:-

_His hair a mess, shaking body, couldn't breathe, no air…Chest tight, no more pain…_

-:-

He couldn't breathe, no air, _God, I need air_. He gasped.

"Sam?"

No response.

"Sammy."

Just gasps for air that came from his brothers mouth. They echoed through the small confinement of the bathroom, shooting straight through Dean's chest.

"Sam?!"

-:-

_No air, frozen lungs, soft bed, God it hurt…sun on his chest, slowly, achingly slowly reviving him, calling him to reality._

-:-

"Sam, Jezus, hey come on breathe."

_O.K. panic! Now!_

He gripped Sam, careful not to break anything but still...his grip was strong enough so that Sam couldn't fall anywhere but on Dean.

-:-

_Trying to lift his hand to his chest, bloody and gory, but no pain…not yet. It's frozen, the pain will come later. _

-:-

"Sammy, come on, hey, hey, you have to breathe." He squeezed Sam's hands tighter, lift up his head and looked at Sam's eyes. His pupils were blown out of proportion with the struggle to draw in breath. His mouth were open in a scream, fear so embodied in those eyes it made Dean flinch a little. He could see all the veins in Sam's neck bulge out, cheeks flushed. He was straining his neck muscles so hard, Dean thought he would pop a vein or something.

"O.K., Sam, just easy. It's O.K.," he ran his hand over Sam's face, wiping away the beads of sweat that began to run down his face, "just easy, you're O.K. come on. Relax."

_Dean…help me_.

Maybe he called out those words, maybe he thought them, but he felt Dean's hands, he heard his voice, he knew…rather smelled where he was, but there was this bed and a man lying on it, choking to death.

-:-

_One breath…slow and easy. Like life starting over. But he wanted death. Death…now!!_

-:-

Sam's hand squeezed Deans wrist, Dean swore he felt something break in the vice grip Sam just pulled on him. The tears streaming down Sam's face were mixing with the sweat and combined they ran slowly down his neck to be soaked up by his hoodie.

"Sammy, relax. You're fine. Just breathe, you know how to do that, right? It's simple, in and out. Yeah? Like me." he drew some over exaggerated breaths to make his point when he saw Sam squeeze his eyes shut and Dean felt like he lost the connection. It was only when Sam's head fell freely on Dean's chest, did he get it back. The light thump was soon followed with a good, strong intake of breath. Dean let it be.

"Good, that's it. One breath, then another. It's the way things are, ya know?" He still held his brother by his arms, never letting go, even if the pressure on his wrist was becoming unbearable.

"Sam, you trying to break my wrist or something?"

Nothing. No sound from Sam.

Sam was trying to soak up as much of the strength Dean possessed, feeling his brothers chest raising and falling under his forehead, the tumptumptump of Dean's heart bringing him back, slowly…ever so slowly.

He rested his head on Sam's mop of hair, digging his chin in:" Sammy? You with me now?" he managed a whisper around his brothers hair and wheezing sounds that were now coming from Sam's lungs.

Sam was shaking hard, trying to come away from the feeling of _not enough air_,_ Dean I can't breathe. Dean!!_ to the feeling of _Dean, help me, I'm cold. Please. _

_Jezus Sammy. Scared the crap out of me. _

"'M coooold." He whispered in Deans chest, and breathed in a few strong breaths more, capturing the smell that was his brother. Home.

"O.K. come on, let's get you off of this floor," he grabbed Sam under his armpits and hauled him up, "easy does it. Come on. You're O.K., you're fine. Let's leave this shit hole. Just breathe, yeah?" The strain in his neck was heard in his voice, but Sam didn't register it enough to try and help. He was almost limp in his arms and Dean nearly collapsed under the weight.

"Sammy this is getting to be a regular thing for you, huh?"

_You scared the crap out of me, Sammy. _

Sam's head rolled onto Deans shoulder and ledged herself somewhere between Dean's collarbone and the tip of his shoulder. The contact sent a wave of heat through Sam's head and he left out a breath as his hands clutched Deans jacket.

"I gotcha, Sam. Come on, let's go."

"'M coooold."

He whispered into is brothers shoulder and the icy breath that came with that shook Dean.

_Shit, Sammy. What's wrong with you? _

"We'll get you warm, I promise."

He felt Sam's hands clutch at his jacket and every time he shifted Sam into a better position he felt those icy hands graze at his T-shirt. It felt like someone was throwing ice chips at his chest.

They walked behind the corner of the building, nearly breaking their feet on the pebbly path and gracefully avoiding the three trashcans standing against the wall. Sam stumbled towards them as he felt a rush of cold go up his legs.

"No, no, no. Sammy, hey this way. This is no time to take out the trash, man."

Dean maneuvered them towards the Impala that was waiting patiently where they had left her.

The sun had gone down, leaving silence and crickets to rule the fresh nightly air. The curtain of clouds, that obscured the sky throughout the day had disappeared and stars had taken their place. The moon was young, smiling behind Deans back as he lowered his brother in the passenger seat.

_Cold, cold, cold, Dean 'm cold, cold, cold, hurts, Dean, cold, please Dean…_

"…cold." Barely a whisper, just a breath of a word.

Dean lowered Sam into the passenger seat and jumped a little when Sam spoke. He looked at his brother, hiding his legs somewhere under the dashboard, chin resting on his chest, eyes closed and mumbling incoherently. Dean didn't really think any of it meant something but the 'cold' part…...he heard that one loud and clear.

He ran his hand over his own mouth and down his tight and sighed.

"We'll get you warm, don't worry."

He closed the door and headed around his baby and hastily slid behind the wheel.

One look towards Sam broke something in Dean. He laid one hand on Sam's chest feeling the tremors wracking his baby brothers body, felt the icy cold skin right through the hoodie, Sam's heartbeat was way to fast to be normal, the simple act of breathing was raising Sam's chest up and down nearly hitting the roof, his legs were twitching nervously, knees hitting the edge of the dashboard, the bandage on his wrist was bloody, but Dean didn't see any fresh blood there and as he swept Sam's forehead again it was cold and sweaty.

"Just breathe, Sammy. You'll be fine. I promise we'll get to the bottom of this."

_Warm, hot, Dean, warm, don't let go, warm, please Dean, don't let go…_

Sam's teeth were clattering, his breath was coming out in short gasps now, almost on the verge of hyperventilating. His muscles tightened to stone hard and he couldn't stop all the tremors that came with that. Dean stepped on the gas almost pushing the pedal through the Impala's floor.

Sam felt Deans hand let go of his chest, and he gasped when the freezing cold covered him again.

A small moan from somewhere deep in his throat turned into a barely audible: "No."_ Don't…let…go…of…me…Dean._

"Sam? No? No what? Sammy?"

But there was no answer, Dean's wide fear driven eyes only saw Sam's body falling to the side window and his ears met the noise Sam's head made when it hit the cold glass.

**--**

**TBC…**


	15. Chapter 15

**One little note **_which will probably turn out a BIG note, because I just love to ramble_**: I'm going on a holiday for at least two weeks**_ I need it like a drowning man needs solid ground_**, so this is the last installment for at least that long. And I have to send the next few chapters to my beta **_tnx Poaetpainter_** and when I get it back I'll update. I hope you won't loose interest and well…see you in **_sort of_** two weeks time. It pains me to leave it like this, it really does…for the story and for you the readers. Thank you to all of those who reviewed this far **_love you_** and to all of you 'silent readers' **_love you too_**…I'll be thinking about you all when I'll be sipping my cocktails on the beach. **_Mmmm yummy._** So I'll see you in two weeks. **

**Enjoy… **

**--**

**CHAPTER 15: **

Sam felt something hit his temple. Or did he hit something? Swimming in ice and snow, he didn't know anything else but pain and a weird kind of pressure on the side of his head. There was whiteness stretching far beyond what he could see; lost in his own mind that finally gave up the images of_ Leroy_ lying in his bed.

He was pretty sure he was hitting something with his knees, vaguely aware he was shaking and sitting down and most definitely convinced Dean was right next to him. He could smell the Impala, feel the engine roar and he trembled in unison with the car.

His jaw began to hurt when the cold seeped from his temple to his whole right side of the face.

"De…n?" a slight whimper came from his parted mouth, barely audible to any other ear…but Deans. It fogged the window a little, that breathy name.

"Sam?"

"'M coooold." he wheezed out between huffs of breath that barely fall out of his mouth.

"Sam?"

Dean stopped the car on the side of the road and twisted his body so that he could reach Sam. He pulled his head from the foggy window.

"We'll get you warm, don't you worry. O.K.?"

He held Sam's head between his hands and carefully inspected his face. Sam's eyes were partly opened, shining a blacker brown than Dean has ever seen before. He felt his skin sweaty and saw how it glistered in the bright moon. It had lost the coldness it possessed before and he was glad about that, but he hoped that didn't mean that a fever was setting in.

"Sammy? Hey, come on, let's get you to the motel."

_Why was Sam so cold? Blood loss, dehydration, flu? What? _

He dragged Sam's body closer to his and Sam's head fell on his shoulder, the long unruly hair tickling his neck. Sam was panting, in and out, to quick and to shallow. Dean hoped that that earlier 'breathing accident' didn't damage Sam's lungs or anything else for that matter.

The cold emanating from Sam's body chilled Dean down to his toes.

"Shit, Sammy..."

He felt himself being moved by strong hands, saw someone's eyes looking at him as he landed softly on a warm bony place. _Dean…_

"Mhmm…" he gave a slight nod, a hushed brush of his hair over Deans neck and he knew exactly where he was. _Home._

"Sam you with me?"

The voice was clearer now than it had been before. Before it had been like chasing shadows, a familiar voice he couldn't quite put his finger on, didn't quite recognize. But now…now he knew.

The warmth of his brothers shoulder was overwhelming. It crawled inside of him, reviving his senses, making his blood flow faster, warmer, it unblocked the stiffness of his legs and he cracked an eye open. He could have sworn his eyelids were frozen shut but he managed to open them in full now.

Darkness was the first thing he noticed. Only two bright lights far away from his reach gave his chilled brain a note that he is in a car at night.

The second thing he saw was Deans outstretched hand gripping the wheel and turning it a bit to his left.

Sam felt Deans shoulder follow the movement and the brush of the jacket made his cheek sting.

"Ugh."

He wanted to touch his head, wanted to raise his hands, but they were too heavy. They felt like they were made of iron.

"Sammy?" Still keeping the worry out of his voice.

"Dean?" he barely croaked his brothers name, he couldn't quite force his vocal chords to work properly yet.

"We're goin' to the motel to warm you up." he whispered, not quite sure why. Probably so he wouldn't disturb the silence and the comforting rumble of the car. Yeah, that was probably why.

"'M warm." and he was as sure of that statement as he was sure he was still alive.

Dean turned his head to look at Sam's face but all he saw was a mop of wet brown hair and felt Sam's hand clutching his jacket. He averted his eyes to the front window, not wanting to crash his baby. And Sam.

"How do you feel?" he asked into the window, and clenched his jaw to the lie Sam was about to say.

"Bet..r."

_Sure Sammy, whatever you say. _

"We'll be there soon. Just…"

_What? Sleep, relax?_

"…stay with me, here."

"Mhhhmm."

Sam wanted to close his eyes, wanted to fall asleep, wanted to go somewhere like…the desert. Somewhere nice and warm. Maybe Hawaii. Yeah that would be nice. But to close his eyes? Seeing Leroy again, there on the bed with all that blood, with all that cold, with that overwhelming desire to die? No way in hell. So he tried to keep his eyes open, focus them on the passing line in the middle of the road, but found himself not being able to tear his gaze from Deans arm and the way his hand kept moving with the steering wheel. He clutched at Deans jacket on the bottom, gripping it tight, remembering how it belonged to his Dad before he gave it to Dean. It felt like he was connected to Dean and his Dad through that simple touch.

Dean could feel Sam getting warmer, his breath wasn't coming out in icy pants anymore, _thank God for that_, and he wasn't shaking as much as before. But the vice grip he had on his jacket only intensified in strength and when Sam shifted his hand, he accidentally grabbed some skin by Dean's hip.

"Sammy?" a little pained but one look back down on Sam's mop of hair, wet from the sweat and some tears…he couldn't be mad, couldn't hurt.

"'s Ssssam." a bit slurred but still…bitchy as ever. And to emphasize it, he gripped the jacket along with some of Dean's skin even tighter and then let go.

Asshole, Dean thought but let it slide. He needed the contact too, couldn't let Sam slip away again.

After Dean's heat restored Sam's blood flow and brain activity, he could sense some other bodily functions start to work again.

In his head a word started to format, a known word, an easy word, but for the life of him he couldn't get it to his mouth: "Bat…om."

"Huh?"

The next word didn't cause that much trouble for Sam to formulate it: "Pee."

"Sam? Serious?" he glared down again and saw Sam nod faintly.

_No, no, no, Sam you're too weak, you can't even stand, you can't even sit, you hadn't had a drink the whole day, he hasn't…you were just in the bathroom like 15 minutes ago. _

"Ple…ase." it wasn't a word as much as a sob. And Dean broke.

Maneuvering Sam out of the car and holding his weak body up when he peed…listening to his moans when it burned, a whimper that came when it stung, feeling Sam tremble beneath his hands, tensing muscles to hold him up but eventually they both fell on the ground in a crying heap…shame. All limbs intertwined on a grassy ground, somewhere in the middle of nowhere... Sam sobbed a little, clutched to Deans jacket sleeve and Dean didn't know what to do, what to say. He could feel Sam's silent tears making their way down his brothers face. Sam panted, deep breaths coming in and out, and Dean shifted his hand away from Sam's chest to give him room to expand it fully.

"'S fine Sammy." he whispered in Sam's hair, smelled the sweat there and shifted his eyes to the far horizon of the clear night. There were some trees there, long branches obscuring the view deeper into the forest. An owl made her appearance only by sound, _someone's gonna die tonight,_ and it chilled Dean to the bones. Crickets with their concert, flies attracted by the smell of urine, birds finally going to bed. The darkness was a welcoming cloak to Sam's shame, disgrace even, to everyone but Dean.

Throughout the whole time he was holding his brother, shifting him somewhat away from the puddle Sam made, he saw a child Sam used to be. All lost and scared and fearless and brave. How he always needed Dean…to make everything alright. And he will make this alright…the slight rocking motion he was making, shifting Sam close to him…it was some sort of a promise, he just hoped Sam will understand it like that.

Wetness and the smell of urine, zipping up Sam's fly when his hands were shaking too much…Dean would never talk about it again. Ever. But he would do it again. For his brother he would.

The rest of the car ride was a blur to Dean and even more so to Sam.

Leaning on Dean's shoulder again, after he managed to scramble up a coherent thought, he whispered: "Dean?"

The breathy whisper tickled Dean's neck again.

"Yeah, 'm here."

"Getting warmer."

And he was, he really was.

"'S good."

"Yeah."

He clenched Deans jacket in his hand again and tried to forget the awkward situation they had been in a few minutes ago. At least he didn't wet his pants this time. Sort of. He felt his cheeks turning crimson, all the heat he managed to get through Deans touch was now collected in his cheeks. He felt utterly embarrassed. What happened a few minutes ago outside…he was really hoping Dean won't bring it up again. It was Dean there, his brother and not some stranger, but he still felt…humiliated.

Dean felt the heat on Sam's face through his jacked and knew exactly what was happening.

_Don't worry Sammy, we'll fix this…with a laugh or two. _

"'m sorry." small uttered words into the fabric of Dean's jacket.

Dean felt them more than he heard them.

"For what?"

"Before."

He had to apologize, he was angry and scared and as much as he never wanted to talk about it again, he had to say that to Dean. He had to know Dean wasn't angry at him…had to check the situation.

Dean clenched his jaw, worked his tongue over his teeth and whispered back: "You don't have to be sorry, Sam. You did nothing wrong. We'll figure this out."

"What if we don't?"

"We will!" he breathed just for the sake of calming himself down, "we will Sam."

"Yeah."

Dean really didn't want to put Sam into even more of an awkward situation he was in at the moment but he had to know. Had to ask now, when he had Sam back with him. Sure Sam denied it before, but what's it gonna hurt to ask again. And the knowledge that his brother could have lied the first time, drove him on.

"Sammy," he cleared his throat and glanced at his watch, "are you sure you didn't hurt yourself, you know, down there?" this really was awkward.

Sam's heart dropped. He knew he had to answer the question, had to calm Deans nerves, but damn if the question wasn't a cherry on the top of his shame.

"Yeah, 'm sure."

Dean let go a breath of relief that was soon replaced with a breath of panic.

"If you didn't hurt yourself, then why…" he was cut off by Sam's: "I don't know. I just know that," he clenched Dean's jacked again "it has to stop. It hurts too much."

If he was drowning in shame already, why not just submerge fully in it. It doesn't matter anymore.

"We'll fix it. Just…hold on. Don't even feel embarrassed anymore."

"How…"

"I'm your brother. I changed your diapers, for God's sake. And it was nastier then." He chuckled and rolled his eyes, a little angry that Sam couldn't see it.

"'s not funny."

"Yes it is, if you would know what a pooper you were, huh…"

"'s really not funny." he smiled, and Dean felt the smile as Sam's lips parted over his shoulder.

"Man, Sam, don't worry, alright," and as an afterthought he said: "and don't drool on me, dude."

Sam snickered.

Dean cleared his throat again and Sam prepared for another attack.

"Sam, you have to drink something."

The roll of Sam's stomach was enough of an answer to that. He gurgled a little:" Dean, don't even…"

"You have to drink something."

"I don't, God, Dean, just don't."

"You'll dehydrate, Sam. You have to get some liquid in your system."

He felt sick, just the though about something sliding down his throat and landing in his stomach was enough to make him gag.

"You gonna throw up?"

"If you mention water again I might."

"Sam." it was a warning.

"Dean. I can't…"

"'Coz it hurts too much."

It was spoken softly, not to be taken as an insult or unbelief. And well now that Dean said it, it did sound a little far fetched and weird to say the least. But it does hurt; it stings and it burns and its like someone's pulling a thick rope through his…

"But you have to drink something. You're sweating and you pee every second and I'm not kidding about this, Sam."

Dean leaned into the glove compartment and fetched out a bottle of water.

Just the sight of it was enough to make Sam gag again; his stomach was in his throat and he swallowed it down slowly.

"Here." he pushed the bottle of the clear liquid into Sam.

"I really…"

"Drink or I swear I'll kick your ass from here to Timbuktu."

"Huh?"

"Just drink and don't question your big brother."

He released Deans jacket with a sigh and closed his trembling fingers over the offered bottle. It was cold and a little rosy. It felt good on his palm, maybe it'll feel good going down his throat too.

Yeah no so much…he gagged and spit it out.

"Sam, what are you doing," he grabbed the bottle and eased it out of Sam's hold, "don't drink so fast."

"I can't."

"Don't, Sam. You have too." _Please._

He took little gulps of water just to make Dean happy. His stomach wasn't that happy, but it held the liquid down. For now. Soon enough it'll want to get out, one way or the other.

With all the action and Dean talking to him clearness was coming back slowly into his dazed head, his body getting warmer and warmer and his brain started to spin again in full motion. Which was, as he soon discovered a very, very bad thing.

-:-

"_You wanna know," a breath, "what happened to me, Ryan boy?"_

-:-

"Dean!!"

**--**

**TBC…**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi, I'm back. And I have this for you. I hope it was worth the wait. **

**This was beta-ed by Poaetpainter and if there are any mistakes left they are all mine because I, well, added a few things after it was already beated. I can't help myself. Until next week…**

…**enjoy. **

**--**

**CHAPTER 16:**

"Sam!"

Sam's arms shot towards the dashboard hitting Dean in the process, making him twist the wheel and barely miss a tree that came out of nowhere. He hit the brakes and pulled the car carefully on the side of the road. The tires crunched beneath the small pebbles, turning the silence in the car into an annoying noise.

"Sam?"

He looked at Sam's back that was rising up and down with the deep breaths he was trying his best to draw in.

"Sam?"

The concern was evident in his voice but Sam didn't register it. He was still lost in Leroy's voice, the rough and broken voice that pulled him out of the warm sanctuary he found leaned on Dean's shoulder. He breathed. Hard and deep and it seemed there wasn't enough air in the car to fill up his lungs.

"Sam?" it wasn't concern anymore, it was fear. Sam was making wet wheezing sounds that shook Dean to the core.

"Sam! What's wrong?"

He grabbed Sam's head between his hands and made his brother look at him.

"Sam...what?"

Dean saw Sam's glazed eyes, darting everywhere and nowhere in particular. His cheeks were flushed and clammy from sweat that plastered his hair to his forehead.

"Sammy?" he tried with a calm quiet voice hoping beyond hope that Sam would respond to it.

"Leroy…" the hoarse whisper scared Dean a little. He was used to his own voice doing the talking in the silence of the car and Sam joining in to the conversation…well Dean was happy but it still scared the crap out of him.

"Leroy, what?" Sam's head lost leverage there and Dean had to put it up again: "Sam? Leroy, what?"

"Conto...lling Ry...n…" the last part faded into whisper as Sam closed his eyes and fell into oblivion.

"Sammy?" he looked all over Sam's face.

"Sam?" he ran his hand over Sam's head, moving the hair from Sam's forehead, "you better just be unconscious," and rested his fingers on Sam's neck to check for his pulse, "or I swear I'll kick your ass." Nice and steady thump of Sam's heart fluttered beneath his fingers, _good_.

He leaned his brother's limp head on his shoulder again, where it was resting before and gripped the wheel tightly with both hands. The roar of the Impala soon faded into a purr that followed him down the road with his baby brothers limp form leaned on his side with all his weight.

-:-

"Sam?" a soft call to wake up his brother.

After getting no response, he tried a little rougher: "Sam!?" and a quick and easy slap on his cheek. That earned him a groan and one eye slowly opening to have a look at the world.

"Sam, hey."

"D..n." he didn't even open his mouth, he just let the breath talk.

"Yeah, in the flesh. Now come on, wake up."

He knew something was demanded of him when Dean came closer to his line of vision, but for the life of him he didn't know what. A hand touched his, tugging harshly, almost scraping off some of his skin, or so it felt, and he went with it. He had to or else he thought he would loose all of his skin. But somehow not really. He knew the touch, knew the rumble of the voice, knew the smell of everything. It was trust that settled inside of him with all that. So he moved.

Dragging his big semiconscious brother to the motel room proved to be easier than he thought. Never mind the looks he got from the other guests.

"The kid can't hold his liquor," he told and elderly woman, who looked at him like he had eight heads…at least, "I always tell him, one beer no more, but does he ever listen?" he rolled his eyes to emphasize his displeasure of the situation and watched at the retreating back of the woman.

"Crazy old bag of wrinkles." he mumbled as he pushed his brother further along the pavement. He could have sworn he heard a chuckle from Sam.

He leaned Sam on the wall next to the door, so that he could unlock them.

"It'll be fine, Sam." he said it more to appease himself rather than Sam.

Unlocking the door, he pushed them in and grabbed Sam again. One hand around his waist and the other one around his shoulders. He could feel Sam's body trembling in his arms and he was having trouble keeping him upright. He had to literally drag his feet along the pavement, because Sam had no control over them. Sure he tried to help, but failed miserably. When they finally staggered into the room he automatically turned on the light and threw Sam gently on the first bed that came in his line of vision.

"Jeez, Sammy. You've gotten heavy, man." he wiped off some sweat that formed on his face, but he couldn't mask the concern. Sam was out again as soon as he hit the bed, dipping in it a little.

He started fidgeting with Sam's hoodie and after some maneuvering of the still body of his brother, he finally got it off. Throwing it on his own bed, he looked at Sam. _So young, Sammy. And these things that keep happening to you…we'll figure it out._ He saw some wet spots on Sam's T-shirt and touched them. He rolled Sam on his side and ran his hand flat out over Sam's back.

"Shit, Sammy you're soaking wet."

A low mumble came from Sam's mouth and Dean didn't know what to make of it. The only thing he did know was that he had to get Sam into some dryer clothes.

"So…which shirt do you prefer, Sammy? This one," he raised his left hand holding a white shirt, "or this one?" he raised his right, where he was holding a blue one.

Sam shivered and Dean decided on the blue one, as the denim beneath his fingers felt the warmer of the two.

"O.K., let's take this off, shall we?"

He had to keep talking, had to get himself thinking Sam was there, with him. He wanted an eye roll, a whine about how he's treating him like he was five, God he would even take Sam being five right now, if that would mean he would get Sam back, responsive and annoying. He wiped Sam's body with the T-shirt, as he couldn't find anything else close in range to do the job. He probably should wash Sam somehow, but he had no intention of getting Sam to the shower or anything else.

"Jesus, Sam, you're cold," he said when he pressed Sam's bare chest against his own as he reached behind him to tug the shirt down, "you're gonna be fine. I'm gonna fix this, and you're gonna be just fine." and pulled Sam's hands into the shirts sleeve. His hand stopped briefly on Sam's bandaged wrist: "We're gonna fix that in a second, alright?" he whispered into Sam's sweat drenched hair.

Pants were a hassle but he managed. He was dressing and undressing Sam a lot when they were kids, so he knew all the tricks on how to do this more…smoothly.

A sharp intake of breath and a shiver from Sam pulled Dean into action again: "'s not enough, you're still cold, ah Sammy?" he said while fishing out a black hoodie from Sam's duffle bag.

"Here we are." he pulled Sam's body against his own again and slipped the hoodie on.

He stood by the bed and watched his baby brother who was splayed on the dark green blanket that covered the bed. His left hand was hanging from the bed, his right one safely on. His chest was moving and that calmed Dean a little. His brother was breathing, _he just passed out, 's all_. His head was tilted in Dean's direction and he could see the rapid movement of his eyes beneath the eyelids. To Dean he looked so young in the dim light that ruled in the room.

"Jesus Sam. What the hell?" he scratched his chin and found some stubble there.

Sam shivered so obviously that Dean took the blanket from his bed and tucked Sam in it, tucking the sides beneath Sam's body. When he finished only Sam's head was visible and the rest of him was looking like a badly wrapped mummy.

He stood as tall as he was and observed the bundle of blankets on the bed. Suddenly he felt all alone. Sure Sam was there, only a few feet away, but he found himself longing for Sam to speak again. To say something, anything. Even call him a jerk, or something. Just something…anything. But all he got was another shiver from Sam accompanied with a groan.

"O.K., Sammy, let's take a look at that wrist of yours. I'm just gonna go out to get our kit, alright?"

He stupidly waited for an answer that obviously would never come. He turned swiftly on his heals and went out the room to make a quick run to the car.

One long, deep moan crawled out of Sam's mouth as soon as Dean left the room.

"'m back. How ya doing there, mummy?" he smirked, unaware of Sam's groan of pain a second ago. He switched on the bed lamp and arranged it in a way so that it shone precisely on Sam's hand.

He sat down on the right side of the bed and slid his hand under the blanket to search for Sam's. He put it in his lap and snatched a pair of scissors, cutting the bloody bandage of.

His heart almost stopped for a second, and his stomach sympathized by rolling around a few times.

"Oh God Sammy. You…stupid son of a bitch..."

The sight that greeted him upon unwrapping the bandage was horrible. Four small stitches broke, revealing a deep wound coated with dried blood that was obviously the only thing keeping Sam from bleeding to death.

"Well," he looked at Sam's pale, sweaty face, "I have to give you credit for handling," he raised his voice a notch," your in pain pretty well, you idiot."

_I knew we should have taken care of it as soon as his stitches broke, as soon as there was blood there, never should have left you go back to Ryan, never should have stopped at the gas pump… _

"That's it, Sam, I'm taking you to the hospital," he stood up from the bed and looked at Sam, "now."

Leaning down to pick up his 'dead to the world' little brother he found out that Sam wasn't really all that 'dead to the world'.

"No…"

Dean was sure he heard something, something that didn't come from his own mouth.

"Sam?" he looked at Sam's face expecting to see the same old expression Sam wore this days. Closed eyes and slightly parted mouth, but what he found was two shiny brown eyes that pleaded just one thing; no.

"Sammy?"

"No…hos…tl."

"What?"

Oh, Dean knew what Sam meant, he just needed a conformation on the stupid words that Sam spoke so that he would have a legit reason as to why he beat his brother up.

"No," he swallowed a thick ball of saliva, "hos…tal."

"Sam, you're insane. Now come on." he tried to pick up Sam again when a quiet word stop him.

"Pleee...se."

"Sam, come on…you've lost blood, you're dehydrated, I have to take you to the hospital, clinic. Whatever they have here in this town." he smiled a sad smile trying to convince Sam and himself that things aren't _that _bad, but they will get _that_ bad if they don't go to the hospital.

"Dean, please."

When he finally found his voice he extended his uninjured hand towards Dean's arm and squeezed as tight as he could, which was not much and the weight of his hand felt like a pesky fly to Dean.

"Sam, you're not…"

"Leroy," Sam almost choked on the sound of that name, "he won't let me…Ryan," he breathed in and Dean shuddered from the intensity of the sound, "he'll kill…us."

"Sam? Kill? Us? What? How?" the questions were raining out of his mouth before he realized that all would probably be too much for Sam to handle.

"He…told me," he gripped Deans sleeve and pulled his brother closer to him and whispered the last words in Dean's ear "he'll kill us. Ryan and me."

After Dean gave him one more 'what the hell' look that told Sam to brace himself for more questions he started: "No hospital…" he released Deans jacket and fell on the bed, hitting his head on the soft pillow, "he'll kill us," he looked at Dean still hovering above him, "please."

"O.K. Sam, O.K."

"You fix it." And he closed his eyes again, leaving Dean in the darkness.

"No hospital, got it." he felt Sam's hand slip from his jacket.

_Great, just fucking great. Fix it? FIX IT!? O.K., breathe. I swear Sam, you're like a freaking magnet for this kind of things. Shit, alright no hospital, got it…I'll fix it, I swear. You're not dying on my watch, little brother. _

He sat down by his brothers side once again, and picked up his hand. It was cold to the touch as he traced his fingers feather light over the wound and found out that it really wasn't _that_ deep and replacing those four stitches would do the job. They'll deal with dehydration later.

Cleaning the wound was the easy part, he had to use a little more force to get all the dried blood of, and that only elicited a moan from Sam. Nothing more, which was good.

He checked Sam's pulse, _good and steady, sleeping probably. The kid does need his beauty sleep._

By the second stitch Sam opened his eyes and took one shuddering breath that echoed through the room like a buzz of a mosquito.

-:-

"_It hurt, Ryan. Dying, it hurt like hell." _

-:-

"Easy Sammy. You're alright."

-:-

_It stung, like nails digging in his skin and the aftermath was even worse. The sting of a jellyfish mixed with a bee sting with a dash of a wasp sting. _

-:-

Deans voice came in his mind…_easy._

He held Sam's hand securely in his lap, fidgeting with the needle with one hand. Practice really does make a master.

-:-

_The pain started on his wrist and continued shooting up his arm, down his spine, electrifying every nerve._

-:-

Sam blinked and looked directly at Dean. Those eyes, begging to let him be, to let him sleep or die, those big, moon-like eyes, so young…

"'s fine Sam, just two stitches more, O.K.?"

Sam blinked once more.

-:-

"_Noooooo, stop, stop, stop, please. Give me somethin', anything. Please." Were the sobs that were heard in the room, the quiet room. The words echoed down the vast corridors, hitting walls and bouncing of the ceiling to finally hit the floor where they drown in the silence of nothing. _

"_Stop!!" _

-:-

"'s that a yes," a pause to bear his eyes in Sam's in search for an answer," I'll take that as a yes."

_No, Dean no, it was a no. I need you to stop, Deeeeeaaaaannnn! _

He pushed the needle into the skin once more, oblivious of the little trickle of blood that ran down Sam's palm.

_Have to be careful, Dean, this is a sensitive area, if you screw up…really bad shit 's gonna happen. _He kept repeating in his head, like a mantra of some sort.

Sam drew in a breath that called for Dean's attention, because there was no exhale.

"Sam? Hey, Sam? Watcha doing?"

Panic rose in his stomach, coming to his mouth really fast: " Sammy? Hey man, what are you doing? You have to breathe, dude."

-:-

_Too much, way too much pain that in the end dulled into an ache so deep, his bones were ready to snap. Leroy held his breath, as a wide needle was once again pushed into his wrist. _

"_You hurt yourself, you cut yourself, you moron, and now you can't take some more pain?" a deep growl breached into his mind._

-:-

'_s not real, 's not real, Dean's here, he's here, I can hear him…breathe._

"Come on Sam, man we've been through this already. In and out, ya know? Can't go wrong with that."

He saw Sam's eyes start to water and his face was getting redder and redder by the second. The veins in his neck were starting to bulge out again, and Dean was afraid they'll pierce the skin.

"Sam? What?" he searched his brother's watery eyes for a sign and he got it.

"You want me to stop?"

Sam let go of the breath he was holding.

"O.K., sure, but I'll have to finish eventually, you know that, right? We went through this the last time."

Sam barely moved his head over the pillow but Dean understood that as a nod.

"Alright then, you need some time or…"

Sam nodded more furiously this time.

"Can you…talk?"

Sam sobbed. His throat hurt like there was fire being ignited there and forgot to be put out. It burned, and the ache spreading from his wrist didn't help at all.

"Are you…O.K.?"

_Of course he's not O.K., Dean, can you manage a stupider question, maybe?!_

Sam sobbed again and closed his eyes which sparked that tear that lingered in the corner of his eye to fall. And down it went, into his ear and down on the pillow.

"Sammy?" he all but choked on the word, seeing Sam like this and knowing what he had to do…

"Sam, I have to finish it. You know that, I can't leave it open like this. Just look two more stitches, well one and a half actually and then you can sleep. You can sleep, you'll be fine." _Just making it seem little less intimidating here Sammy, go with me on this one._

Sam felt trapped. The blankets on him were like a block of cement, Dean holding his hand and that fucking needle and Leroy invading his mind, was all just too much. He felt one more tear slip down and he felt embarrassed. Having Dean there and him watching all the things happening to him…he felt the heat on his cheeks again and knew he was blushing. _Will this never end?_ Dean's voice finally penetrated his mind again and dried of the remains of that tear from his ear.

"Alright, Sam shall we? You with me? You ready?"

_Ready for what, Dean?_

He felt the needle drag the thread in his skin and he tensed.

"Relax, Sam."

He tried to pull his hand away from the firm grip Dean had on him, but he was just too weak. He knew Dean would never intentionally hurt him, but right now it seemed Dean was doing just that. He tried to relax, _Dean said relax_, but everything was just too much. He wanted to move, to scream, to pass out, but Leroy's world that he was pulled into every time he did those things, was a sad excuse for getting away from the pain and embarrassment of the real world.

Sam drifted off again into Leroy's world of echoing screams and pain, he never knew existed before. He didn't want to go there his body just took him there. It was Dean's voice that brought him back with a simple word: "Sam?!" as he let go of Sam's hand and shook his shoulder. The look he got from his brother was a simple roll of his eyes as they went into the darkness again. And one big, long breath escaped his slightly parted lips when he rotated his head towards Dean.

"'s good, you're O.K. Just…trust me and breathe?"

And he finished the last stitch without even a twitch from Sam.

Cleaning up the remains of the bloodied bandage and 'the other stuff' he checked Sam's pulse again. _Everything's fine._ He patted Sam's shaking shoulder and stood up. He heard his bones cracking, his stiff back complaining and he made his way towards the bathroom.

The door to the bathroom creaked like his baby's door. The room smelled and it was small, smaller than what he was used to. But the mirror was working just fine as he bore his eyes in his own reflection.

"You're getting to old for this crap, Dean." he said to his reflection and waited for an answer that didn't come.

The water pipe that hung above the sink and below the mirror was some old piece of rusty metal that produced cold water for at least five minutes before getting warm.

_You're washing off your baby brothers blood…_

He watched as the crimson color swirled down the drain. Round and round it went, before hitting the drain and running down the pipes.

…_who's lying on the bed…with a Leroy trying to kill him and a Ryan who's a mystery on its own…_

When the mirror shattered, he didn't even notice. Didn't even acknowledge the pain in his hand or the sound the hit made. But he did notice his own blood mixing with his brothers as it was swirling down the drain. Together.

**--**

**TBC... **


	17. Chapter 17

**I promised to SNIsLove that I'll put this chapter up today. Thank you for reviewing every chapter…you do keep me going, I swear. And to starlight-winged angel…you reading this means a lot to me…you know that. And thank you Poaetpainter for betaing this for me. You guys keep me going, or else I would quit this story a long, long time ago. I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. So…**

…**enjoy.**

**-- **

**CHAPTER 17: **

_They really should change the light bulb_, Dean thought, _or at least clean up the lamp_, because the light was just bright enough so that he could find his way to the table. Anything more would be pure speculation of where things were. He positioned his chair so that he could see Sam on the bed and at the same time look at their computer.

He powered it up and waited for everything to turn on. No way was he gonna freeze the computer. As fun as it would be to see Sam get all worked up over a frozen computer, he needed it. So it was for purely practical reasons, _you know_.

Another groan from the bed made him look at Sam. He saw his brother choose a new position and he laid in a fetal position now, with the newly stitched and bandaged hand spread over his hip.

"Sam?" he had to try.

There was no answer from the bed so he put his mind to the task at hand. The light from the computer was the only one in the room because he turned off the main light. Well it actually turned off all by itself as the bulb just…cracked.

"Great." He muttered to himself as that happened and never tore his eyes from the computer screen.

After hitting some very unhelpful sites, he was starting to loose it. He missed Sam even more now. His brother was the computer geek; he was more of a street smart kind of guy.

The silence was another thing that was killing him, so he did the one thing he could in this situation.

"O.K., Sammy," he chuckled to himself because Sam couldn't correct him on the name, "what do we know? Ryan and Leroy are somehow connected, as you said. O.K.," he ran his hand through his short hair," hmm, researching anything about Ryan turned up crap, researching that nut house turned up crap no. 2 and…"

His line of though was interrupted by a groan from Sam. Dean had heard that sound so many times it was imprinted in him and he knew exactly what it meant.

He stood up from the chair and moved carefully towards the bed. He sat on the edge of it, near where Sam had his knees, brushing them slightly with his hip.

He saw his eyes open, saw the almost black orbs shining in the only light they had. It wasn't enough for Dean to see in what state Sam was, but he would take anything right now.

"Sam?" it was soft and deep.

He placed his hand on Sam's forehead stroking back his hair. He saw and felt the glister of sweat running in rivulets down Sam's face soaked up by the pillow and the blanket. He pulled back the blanket, trying to give Sam some air to breathe. He ran his hand over Sam's chest beneath his hoodie and felt the shirt soaking wet again.

"Sammy, awww, you're wet again. Where are you getting all this liquid from?"

Sam blinked.

"Sam? Hey, you with me?"

Sam didn't register him, didn't even flinch.

"Sammy, hey. Look at me."

Sam's eyes were fixed on something far beyond Deans reach.

"Sam, hey, it's O.K."

All Sam did was shiver and pulled his knees closer to his chest.

"Sammy, come on. Look at me."

He grabbed him by his shoulders and shook ever so slightly and even that got him no response.

"Sam? I need you to drink something." It was pure hope that Sam would be able to drink anything.

Sam blinked. He felt Deans hand on his chest and for a moment there he wanted to grab it and hold it there forever.

"Here," he slipped his hand behind Sam's head, intertwined his fingers through the wet, curly hair in the back of Sam's head and pushed him upwards toward himself and a glass of water magically appeared in his hand, or so it seemed to Sam, "drink this."

He opened his mouth slowly, like he was afraid of what's gonna escape from it. But it was just water that filled his mouth, nothing else.

"Easy there," Dean whispered as Sam choked on a gulp of water, "easy, slowly, don't wanna make you sick," and Sam coughed. Some of the water ran out of his mouth, down his chin, to make a home on his shirt and in his lap gathering into the already damp clothing.

"Sam, hey, easy. You're O.K., 's fine, I'll clean you up, nothing to be embarrassed about." he reassured Sam, when he saw that crimson color of shame creep on Sam's face again.

And Sam just closed his eyes again.

Dean was at the computer again, cursing it in words unfamiliar even to sailors. All the pages he had opened turned out nothing about a Ryan or a Leroy. Every page was a dead end and he was seriously considering throwing the computer at the wall. And then one little, tiny thing attracted his attention. On a page he was just about to close in frustration there was a newspaper article of a man that died in that nut house. It was the 'Events of out town' page that the community seemed to put up. All the things that ever happened in the town, was written on the site. Even when Mrs. Levy's third husband died or when Mr. Levenson got his tractor fixed and how much that cost.

_Fun town._

"You son of a bitch."

He read the article twice, because he never thought that the solution to their problem could be that easy. Things were never _that_ easy. It was funny even and he spread his mouth into a huge smile.

"Well Sammy, I told you I was good at this…" he waved a hand in the air, "computer thing."

All he got in return was that familiar groan and soon after that a whimper came that pulled Dean out of his victory dance.

"Sam, O.K., enough with the sleeping."

He sat on the bed again with an easier heart now then before, because he knew exactly what he needed to do. That easiness was fallowed by an ache so deep that broke his bones when he sat down…the thought on what he must do to Sam…

But first…

"Sam O.K, I have to keep you here. Leroy is a ghost, Sam. Come on I need you to open your eyes. Come on, just open your eyes and focus. Come on!"

Sam shivered and sluggishly opened his eyes.

"Sammy, come on look at me. Hey, look, listen, Leroy is a ghost. He's a ghost and you know what that means don't you?"

-:-

_Sam stood by the side of a bed. It was Ryan's room, he knew it. He felt it. He smelled it._

-:-

"Sam please, look at me."

A voice pushed the image away for a second and he shifted his eyes in the direction of the soft call. It was familiar, so…home.

"That's it. Come on, eyes on me, Sammy."

He got Sam's eyes on his own and that proved to be more than he bargained for. They burned him, with the tears leaking out and the lost look pained him. But he had to keep those eyes on his own. He had to keep Sam here, because he knew the moment he let them go, he would loose Sam again.

"Sam focus. On me, eyes on me." he tried to look at Sam with soul in his eyes, with gentle green, just so that Sam wouldn't get scared.

There were tears streaming down Sam's face mixed with the sweat and he shivered.

"Just…keep your eyes on me, Sam. O.K.? Don't look away."

God he hoped this would work. It had to work, he had to make Sam coherent enough to tell him about his plan. Had to get Sam here, with him and out of Leroy's reach.

Sam's eyes fluttered and he closed them shut. Dean's heart dropped down to his stomach.

-:-

_The sun was almost blindingly shining into the small room with a high ceiling, stripping Sam from the view on anything else but the bed._

-:-

"Sam!"

The scream brought him back into the motel room and he wondered where the sun went. It was dark here. So very dark.

"Sam, God, just…don't close your eyes. Keep them open, keep them on me."

He stared daggers into Sam's eyes, making him look back, locking him to his eyes.

"It'll go away Sam. It's not real, just keep your eyes on me. 'S not real, O.K. It happened a long time ago. Sam?"

Sam stared at Dean. Drilling sorrow into him, trying to push the things he was seeing into Dean, which put too much strain on his weak body and he closed his eyes again.

-:-

_Leroy lied on it with his hands strapped with leather straps, lying in his own mess, flies feeding on the blood on his wrist. Sam knew he was dying. The door opened behind him and he turned around. _

-:-

"Sam, open your eyes, or I swear I'll kick your ass."

The threat in the familiar voice that came into the veil of his mind brought him back.

"Don't do that to me again. Just focus on me."

Sam did. He looked at him and another tear fell freely down his temple and stopped in the curve of his ear.

"O.K.? I know what happened and I know what I have to do to fix it."

Sam gave him a puzzled look that Dean had never seen before and closed his eyes again.

-:-

_Another man came in the room and passed Sam on his way to Leroy's bed._

"_So," he leaned into Leroy's face, "you'll die soon, you freak." Sam cringed at the 'you freak', it was all too familiar to him. _

_Leroy spat in the man's face. _

"_Well, you should better save your strength. I heard that dying takes effort."_

-:-

"Sam I swear…"

He didn't get to finish the sentence because Sam opened his eyes again and looked at Dean. His brother's voice was a steady soft hum in the back of his mind even when he was with Leroy. It interrupted the scenes he was looking at and brought him back to the dark motel room. But even though it was dark, Dean's eyes were so bright, so green and he really wanted to keep his gaze on them, to feel safe, but Leroy's pull was just too strong.

-:-

_The man pulled the straps tighter around Leroy's hands and left the room. Sam saw Leroy dying slowly and messy. Blood was dripping on the floor, dripdripdrip, almost mesmerizing Sam, some of it was smearing the bed sheet. An open wound, with straps milking the blood, open stitches, thread sticking out in all directions…no one to fix it now. _

-:-

"Sam!"

He opened his eyes again and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

"You really are trying to give me a heart attack, aren't you?"

Sam didn't show any interest in the little joke Dean produced. What he did do was raise his bandage hand towards Dean's chest.

Dean was bewildered.

"Sam? What?"

He raised his hand to Sam's trying to grab him mid air, but Sam was faster in his slowness and grabbed the shiny object swinging back and forth. It captivated his attention from the first time he opened his eyes. He hooked his index finger around the string and pulled.

Dean was lost for actions. He just let Sam do what he needed to do.

The weak force of the pull took Dean by surprise and he leaned closer, following the pressure of the pull. He braced himself on his right hand and grabbed the amulet and Sam's hand with his left. He saw Sam's eyes going there; observing the amulet like a small child observes a rainbow. Full of wonder.

"Sammy, hey. You remember this, right?"

Another tear rolled down Sam's face, and the pillow drank it.

"De..n." a cry was heard in the whisper. A soft, broken cry.

"Yeah, Sam. Hey, you know this?" he felt relieved that Sam still recognized him, because for a second there he thought he lost him for good.

Sam gripped the amulet as tight as he could. His hand was shaking and Dean tried to still it so that Sam could look at the amulet properly.

"You gave it to me, remember? For Christmas."

A long pause and Dean thought Sam slipped away again.

"You," he swallowed down a few tears he didn't want them to fall, "…you said you loved it."

"I still do." He was quick in his answer, because it was a truth he didn't have to think about.

"I lost Dad that day."

"Dad? What are you talking about?"

But Sam already closed his eyes as another picture assaulted his already bruised mind.

-:-

_He was screaming his lungs out for nobody to hear. The sun that shone on his chest was almost mocking him with its warmth, prolonging his death._

-:-

"Sam? No, no, no, come back. Sam!

**--**

**TBC…**


	18. Chapter 18

**So I've finally finished this story and it hurts. I'm gonna miss writing this. But now I can tell you that this story has 22 chapters and I'll be posting them from the 5th**** of August on. In the mean time I'll be working on my new story **_smiles_**.**

**This chapter is short I know but I guess it's better than nothing, right? Next chapters will have some more action in them and some answers and some more troubles for the boys, well Sam more or less. I own nothing but the mistakes. So until the 5****th**** of August…**

…**enjoy. **

**--**

**CHAPTER 18:**

The confusion in Sam's eyes when he opened them was slowly breaking Dean. Those hollow shining eyes that allowed him to see right into his brother…somewhere where he really didn't want to be, but would be if that would make Sam feel better, keep Sam grounded. Keep him here, with him.

His pupils were blown out of proportion, with tears making the brown seem black somehow. It was like a never ending pit, where Dean lost himself.

"Sam? Ya with me?" he stroked back the hair plastered on Sam's forehead to check for any sighs of a fever. _None, good._

Sam slipped again.

-:-

_It smelled of fresh blood and disinfection and food and sweat. And Sam gagged._

-:-

A little moan and a whimper caught Dean off guard. The grip Sam had on his necklace never faltered in strength, only multiplying every time he closed his eyes. He was biting his lower lip to the point of blood. A few drops dripped on the white pillow and dispersing on the already wet fabric.

"Sammy, shit."

He gripped Sam's mouth and forced him to open them, releasing his lip. He ran his thumb over it, smearing the blood all over his finger, but efficiently wiping it off Sam. He wiped his thumb on his jeans, _what's some more blood on me, ah Sammy?_

Sam just stared at him, the coherent moment from before lost once again to the shadows that were crawling in his eyes, clawing at his brain, stripping him naked, making him see Leroy in that room clear and bright.

Glazed eyes told Dean he's gonna loose Sam again really soon.

"Sam, please keep your eyes open."

But the plea went unheard.

-:-

_One last scream tore from Leroy's throat and he averted his eyes in Sam's direction. The tears that ran freely cut into Sam._

-:-

"Did you mishear the 'keep your eyes open' part?"

Sam breathed a painful sigh that almost blew Dean off the bed.

"Well at least you're breathing so that's something."

Sam was clutching the blanket in his left hand turning his knuckles white, but his grip on the necklace was so steady and unrelenting that it was starting to get to Dean. He was leaning over Sam slightly and the pressure was doing nothing good for his back. But he would not start whining. That's Sam's job.

A small drip of saliva was making its way to the pillow as Sam forgot to swallow. It landed directly on the little blood droplets from before, making them dissolve in the liquid.

"Sam you have to keep your eyes open, just don't close them again. I'll even let you pick up the music you want to listen while we drive, I swear."

Sam's eyes were consumed by darkness again.

-:-

"_I just want to go home." He whispered with a hoarse voice, a voice made in a torn throat and the light went out in his eyes. _

-:-

"O.K., O.K., I'll even let you drive…just open your eyes."

Something in Sam snapped then, right then between seeing Leroy die and Deans voice.

"Dean." it was a hoarse whisper Dean wouldn't have heard if it wasn't for the silence that ruled the room. Sam parted his dried lips and licked at the bite from before. He could taste the blood in his mouth and his stomach rolled.

"Sammy?" he had to ask, had to know if Sam was really with him here.

"Yeah." the burn in his throat was gone, just some residues of the ashes remained and he swallowed them down with difficulty. His mouth was dry, like the desert. He could even feel the sand mixed with the ashes.

"Sam you with me?"

"Yeah."

And Dean believed him; he saw it in his eyes. Saw the blackness disappear and the brown come back.

"Good, 's good."

Sam was still clutching the amulet and Dean felt Sam's hands shake.

"O.K., Sam," he saw Sam's eyes look around the dark room, "hey, eyes on me, look at me."

Sam sough out Dean's eyes immediately as the order was given.

"Alright, now that I have your focus," _although you're breaking me here Sammy_, "I have to talk to you. I know what to do. Understand? I know what I have to do to fix this."

He waited for Sam to nod or give any other indication that he even noticed him talking. He sensed Sam slipping away somewhere again and that scared him. There were to many close calls already; sure he got Sam back every time, but the fear that Sam might've got stuck in wherever he went was…painful.

Sam saw Deans mouth moving, he was vaguely aware that words were being spoken, floating around the hot air of the room before the hum of them landed in his ears. For a second there he though he went deaf, but the hum was constant.

"Sam, understand?"

There it was again, that hum. It was such a familiar melody, like a lullaby he used to go to sleep with but he couldn't quite grab it and turn it into words.

"Sammy, come on. Talk to me. Do. You. Understand?"

They were on the bed, Sam still curled up on himself, resting his head on the wet pillow, his bandaged hand still having a vice grip on Deans amulet, ignoring the pain in his wrist. Dean was watching him, he was so close and his mouth was moving but not a word reached Sam. Just hum, just the lullaby. He moved his hand from the amulet and rested it on Dean's throat. Dean flinched and grabbed his hand somewhere mid air, mindful of the bandage, but Sam still managed to rest it on Dean's neck. That was something he really didn't expect and was caught way off guard. Sam's hand was cool and big and soft and wet from the sweat. His fingers found his pulse point and lingered there. It was a soft pressure; Sam wasn't capable of anything extreme right now anyway. He swallowed hard, his Adams apple working through the obstruction of Sam's palm. But it was alright, he could breathe, he could swallow all was good, except for _what the hell brought that up_?!

"Sammy what?" he could talk around Sam's huge palm too, okay he could do this, if Sam needed this, he'll get him this. _It's just his hand on my neck, 's all good, nothin' to worry about._

The rumble and tremble when Dean spoke brought Sam all the way back to the room. The first thing he noticed was the _thumthumpthump _of Dean's heart beneath his fingertips. The second thing he noticed was the smell that lingered in the room…sweat and blood. He blinked and breathed in.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" _I'm still here, not going anywhere, but I'll have to…_

**--**

**TBC…**


	19. Chapter 19

"**Knock, knock! Anyone still out there?! If you are…"**

…**enjoy.**

**--**

**CHAPTER 19:**

"How are you feeling, Sam?" deep and soft, like blowing of dust.

Sam felt the vibrations in Dean's throat through his palm that was still laying there. All the skin and bones couldn't prevent the tremors of Dean's voice to reach his blood and just go with it. He knew that the whole thing was odd, but he just couldn't let go. The steady beat of Dean's heart through his fingertips warmed him up, slipped through his veins straight to his heart. How could he ever let go of that? Little touch of reality was all he needed to find his voice.

"Like crap." Cracked and broken, like sawing a log with a broken saw.

The sweat was mixed with his tears that fell involuntarily from his eyes and he felt his eyelashes stuck together; he tried to raise his hand to wipe it off, to get some dignity back, but he failed when he realized he was just too weak.

Dean wondered when he'd get his throat back, but didn't make a move to make that happen and Sam felt that. Dean could easily just grab his hand and pull it away, but…he didn't. The way Sam looked; tired and young with tears running freely…he just couldn't deny Sam this.

Dean chuckled and the vibrations spread throughout Sam's body.

"Yeah well, you look like crap too."

"Thanks." Sam got the strength to smile weakly from Deans vibrating chuckle. He tried to move, tried to at least turn onto his back, but it was like his muscles were stuck; curled into a ball, so little, he lost himself in the bed. He sighed.

"So, you gonna hold my neck for long?" he shrugged innocently, not really trying to get Sam off of him, but the whole thing was starting to freak him out a little.

After getting no verbal response from Sam, only a barely noticeable increase of pressure on his throat he knew that Sam wouldn't be letting go of him anytime soon. _Alrighty then…straight to the point. _He pondered over the words, chewed on them for a second and then finally spoke them to the stale air in the room: "Sam I know what happened and I know what to do to fix this."

He mumbled out the words, trying to hide their meaning in the speed in which they were spoken. But a little twitch in Sam's hold on him and he knew Sam heard and understood.

Sam was closing his eyes again, the moment of coherency lost once more and he concentrated so hard on his hand on Dean's throat that he forgot everything else. He forgot Leroy and the pain he brought whenever he was with him.

But when he heard Dean's muttered words his heart plunged into the depths of his stomach, and he knew he would need a very long line to pull it back up. The words left him with a strange feeling of loneliness, longing…homesickness. But what could he do? The logical side of his brain told him Dean had to go to get them out of this mess but the emotional side of his brain…just felt lonely, small and scared.

He swallowed the loneliness down, but the rest stayed embodied in his mind: "Yeah."

His gaze wandered from Dean's eyes to his hand holding Dean. His fingers were long and thin, almost enveloping Dean's neck, the bandage white and neatly done. He felt safe like this, here. Present. Holding Dean like this, _home_. His hand trembled, his muscles sore with the strain he put on his hand, but he just couldn't let go of his brother. He closed his eyes, slowly clashing his eyelashes together and felt Dean swallow.

"Sam, hey don't…just listen to me." he felt panic in Dean's words, literally felt it, through his palm still firmly planted on Dean's throat.

"'m listening." he mumbled and let his hand fall down Dean's chest, stopping briefly on the amulet to land on the bed. The loneliness hit him the second his hand hit the sheet with a barely audible thump. It hurt. It was like his brain was starting to melt, slipping through his ears and hitting the already soaked pillow. What's one more thing on the bed, huh? If it can hold blood, sweat, tears what's some brain, right?

"Shit, Sammy."

Before he knew it, he was hauled up to crash on Dean's chest, his limp hands grazing his brother's hips, and a wet something pressed at his ear.

"Dean?" he tried to push his brother away from him, tried to see what was going on, wanted Dean to explain, he wanted to see it in his brothers eyes. But all he got was a perfect view on the table that was shining in the faded light and wetness that was streaming down his cheeks.

"Dean?" he choked on the word, swallowing down panic that tightened his throat and chest.

Dean knew he had to explain to Sam what was going on, but he just couldn't find the right words.

_What the hell? Sam was doing just fine, what the hell? _

Sam's voice and a tug on his T-shirt finally drew him back from his thoughts: "Sam you're bleeding," a tug from Sam as in 'what', "from you ear."

"Dean." he felt dizzy, weak and if he wouldn't know better he would've thought he was drunk.

His fingers let go of Dean's shirt and hit the blanket. His head fell forward, hitting Dean's shoulder in the process and the view became complete darkness. Where he saw the table before, was pitch black now.

Dean was still cleaning the blood that seemed to come out of nowhere when he felt Sam go slack in his arms.

_No, no, no, no, no, not this again._

"Sam?" he grabbed Sam by his shoulders and pushed him away a little, to look at him.

"Sammy?" he shook Sam's shoulders but couldn't get a response out of those closed eyes and the pale face.

"Sam!" he hoped that the order he mixed with a plea would rouse Sam somehow, and he was reworded with a slight groan.

"Sam, come on, look at me."

Sam's head swayed a little before Dean steadied it.

"Sam? You with me, now?

Another groan and Dean understood it as a 'yes'.

"Come on, lay down." he said as he laid Sam carefully down on the bed; as slow as his own muscles allowed him.

When Sam's head hit the pillow he opened his eyes. The almost lost look in those brown orbs made Dean look away for a second.

When he composed himself as much as he could he looked at Sam again: "Hey, Sam, you with me?"

"My ears?" his voice was scratchy like a broken record.

"Yeah, they just started to bleed, I don't know…"

"Not brain?"_ Oh, that's what it was? Huh, just a little blood._

"What?"

Sam chuckled and tangled his fingers in the bed sheet, loosing them in the wet and slick fabric. _Sweat and blood…great. _

"Sam, you O.K.?"

"Yeah, 'm fine."_ No, not really. _

"Sam?" _tell me._

"Seriously, I'm fine." _'m scared. _

It would work if his eyes weren't closing shut and his body could move on his own.

"Sam, you're not fine," softly grazing the surface of loud, "come on, I'm gonna take you to the hospital. Enough is enough."

Before Dean could even grab Sam, he was stopped by: "Dean, Leroy…"

"Yeah I know what he said, but really, man, you just bled out of your friggin' ear, Sam. And then you fainted." Sam cringed at the 'fainted' part.

"Dean I'm fine." He mustered all the 'I'm fine, I'm not lying' expressions into his eyes, hoping beyond hope his brother would just drop it.

"Sam, you're not fine. " _Sammy, come on._

"Just…please Dean." _please drop it, 'm fine now._

They stared at each other's eyes, trying to figure each other out, trying to see what was where and how to fix what was broken. Dean found out Sam was scared and hurting, and Sam found out Dean was angry and determined to fix this…now.

That was what their eyes told them and when Sam broke their gaze, Dean dropped the bloody towel. The thud it made when it hit the floor, made Sam wince.

Dean cleared his throat where anger and fear settled in when Sam started bleeding.

_Seriously what the hell? O.K., he's not gonna talk, the little shit, and we have things to discus. But Sam, we are so gonna talk about this later. _

"O.K., Leroy is a ghost and you know what that means."

Dean saw how Sam's eyes glistered in the vague light of the room.

"Yeah, salt 'n' burn."

"Rock 'n' roll, Sammy!"

"'s Sam."

"Sure."

Dean looked at the headboard, dreading to speak the next set of words, so he allowed the silence to rule the room for a few seconds. The calm before the storm. He didn't know how Sam would react, but he feared that it'll be a bloody mess. After the episode a few minutes ago, he wasn't sure about anything right now.

"I have to leave to go to the cemetery," he raised his hand to stop the flow of words that Sam had undoubtedly cooking in his mouth, "I already know where he is buried; I have the gear in the car all ready to go. The sooner the better, Sam, you know." he went for a smile that came out all wrong. It came out tired and worn out from the over use.

"I know, Dean." his eyes leaped to the blanket, hiding things from what Dean might see…fear and the '_just, please don't leave me here_' that was swirling in his eyes. He was afraid, he was beyond afraid. Why he started to bleed was a mystery, he really didn't want to ponder about. He just knew the emotion that was in his soul when it happened; loneliness. But he knew Dean had to leave, had to fix things.

O.K., to be fair Dean expected yelling, cursing, crying, blood and limbs flying, but he didn't expect the calmness and defeat he got.

"Sam?" he looked at Sam, his downwards look, the fingers clenching the sheet, his too long hair hiding his eyes efficiently enough that he couldn't see the thoughts brewing in them.

"I know, what happened to Leroy, he made me…Ryan see it and feel it and…I know how Leroy died. And I know," he really wished he didn't have to speak the next few words, "you have to go."

The bleak voice Sam was using tore Dean apart.

"I'll only be gone for three, four hours at the most."

"I know."

Sam closed his eyes again and Dean panicked.

"Sam?!"

"Yeah…"

"What happened to you?" _don't close your eyes._

"I saw Leroy die." Whisper in a too silent room.

"You saw it?"

Dean suspected all along what Sam was seeing, he just needed to hear it from Sam himself. He was right. He just didn't know how Ryan fitted in this whole thing.

"And Ryan?"

Sam looked at Dean. He knew he had to explain everything to Dean, everything he knew that is.

"Leroy was connected to Ryan and Ryan was connected to me somehow. I think Ryan is a psychic...like me."

"How do you know that?"

"I…felt it. Ryan was…I don't know. I just felt it. It's kind of hard to explain. Just trust me." he drew in a few long breaths.

"I read in the article where I'd found out that Leroy's dead, that he was a psychic too. They put him in the hospital, where they thought he would be less of a menace to society or something. Whatever. Anyway, this was a very small town back in those days and they feared him. So they… killed him."

"But why did they kill him in that hospital? Why not just lynch him…" he was still fidgeting with the sheets, his eyes never leaving the wrinkled and wet fabric. His eyes were burning with tears and the salty sweat that was dripping into his eyes wasn't making things any easier.

"Well, Sammy you know how it is. They tried to heal him with their ways," Sam cringed; _lobotomy, electroshocks, cold baths, straight jackets, God knows what else_, "but then they just decided that it's best for him if they let him die. I don't know. The headline in the local paper from that time said 'Leroy died' or something like that," Sam cringed again, when he remembered _how_ he died, "and well they got rid of him."

"What was his," in lack of a better word, "power?"

"The article didn't say, I didn't find anything. I think even they didn't know what he could do. Not really anyway."

Sam nodded. He didn't care, not right now, when his head was killing him, his hand throbbed in unison with his heartbeat and he couldn't concentrate on Dean for to long.

"I wonder what was happening to Ryan when you were…"

"He's catatonic as it is. Besides he was transferring everything to me, so…I don't think he suffered much. Or maybe he did…I don't know." He blurted the words, trying his best to say everything he knew before he would fall asleep.

Dean chose his next words with care, they were Sam's words after all so what harm could it do if he repeats them: "Did you suffer…much?"

Sam raised his head and looked Dean straight in the eyes, trying his best to bring his: "'s not your fault, Dean." home…home to Dean's soul, because he knew Dean would be torturing himself about this.

Dean smiled that over used smile of his "Yeah sure."

"Dean…" Sam started but was interrupted by Dean. "Do you sense Leroy here now?"

"No."

"So what? Now that you saw him die…was that the whole point?"

"I don't know. I don't think he's finished yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know…I don't know." He closed his eyes again, letting his mind drift away for a second, before Dean's voice hauled him back: "Sam?"

"Dean, really, man, I have no idea. It's just a feeling, you know?"

"Yeah, but do you mean not finished with you, or in general?"

"Dean, I don't know."

Dean thought about this for a minute, but the only thing he could come up with was, that he has to go to the cemetery to end this. Once and for all.

"I'm going to the cemetery." he stood up from the bed and stumbled on a chair, cursing it in the process.

"Yeah." Sam snickered not even knowing why, when all he felt was a pit in his stomach where his heart settled in. Permanently.

-:-

"You O.K?" Sam felt the bed dip in by his knees, "Need anything before I go?"

He opened his eyes to see Dean in his line of sight. He must've nodded off when Dean went to get him a glass of water. In the corner of his eye he noticed that Dean's hand was bandaged. How could he have missed that?

"What happened to you?" he reached his own bandaged hand to his brothers and took it.

"What?"

"Your hand."

"Well, let's just say that after the Bloody Mary incident, I just bought us a few more years of misfortune."

"Dean…" he was interrupted by Dean's cough and a tug when he took his hand from his.

"I have some M&M's and water."

At the word water Sam's eyes widened and he choked down bile that came up involuntarily. The pressure in his bladder made itself known, and Sam thought that it would explode. The memories of previous 'accidents' hit his mind and his mouth opened in a silent scream and he gasped.

_It'll hurt, God…_ he cried inside, but not a speck of it came to the surface. Yet.

"Sam?" panic once again enveloped Dean's heart. He put the glass down beside the bag of M&M's.

"Bathroom." The word tore through his throat and the presence of Leroy made itself known again.

"You have to, ah, pee?"

Sam nodded viciously almost skinning his scalp in the process.

"Alright, ah…" he took hold of Sam's hands and pulled him up. Sam was limp in his arms, his head a dead weight on his shoulder, his arms hung dead by his sides.

"Can you help?" Dean said to the headboard, trying to ignore the blood specks on the pillow.

Sam pulled his legs from the blanket and wiggled them to the floor. His bare feet hit the soft blanket and he tried to stand up.

"Come on, let me help." _Please, Sammy._

So much was hidden in those words, so much truth and love that Sam just let go. Let everything go and allowed Dean to drag him to the bathroom.

"You good?" Dean didn't think so, but he had to give Sam a chance to decide if he wanted Dean to help him or leave him.

Sam dropped his head and shook it slightly. He knew that if he let go of Dean he would fall flat on his face and kiss that God awful carpet.

"O.K., 's O.K. Come on."

Dean closed the cracking door behind him, clicking the lock and hiding them from the room that saw too much already.

The refrigerator in the now lonely dark room heard Sam's: "God, Dean that's a lot of years of misfortune." and Dean's reply: "Yeah well, I thought we were getting pretty lucky already, so, you know, I had to fix that somehow. Now pee." The table heard Sam's gasps, the chairs heard Sam's pleas to please make it stop, the beds heard Dean's soothing words of it'll be fine, Sam, just relax. The window heard Deans: "Sam no, no, no, stay on your feet…Sam!" and a thump that the curtains interpreted as a fall. The bathroom door was the only one who heard the soothing whisper of Dean's voice: "I know it hurts, Sammy," there was a pause, "and the sooner I get to burn the son of a bitch the sooner this'll end. But right now we have to get up, Sam. Come on."

The whimpering groan that came from Sam's mouth was for Dean's ears only. And the slurry: "'s Sam." too. The room's carpet heard Deans: "Maybe next time you should sit on the toilet. Come on."

Tucked neatly in the bed once again Sam tried his best not to think about Dean and what he had to do. Where he had to go.

Seeing that Sam was gradually loosing the scarlet red color of embarrassment that came in the 'bathroom incident' he opened another topic for discussion. It wasn't like he was trying to put Sam into even more misery by doing that, he just really wanted…needed to know.

"Sam, besides the wrist and the peeing, does anything else hurt?"

Sam was caught off guard but checked himself mentally anyway.

"No, nothing. Why?" he almost cried out the words, stopping only when thinking what that would do to Dean. _Suck it up, Sam._

_O.K., that was easier than I thought…_

"Well, considering that you didn't have anything to drink and that you're sweating a lot and that you're peeing a lot too, you seem sort of fine. And let's not forget the bleeding thing."

"Maybe it's because of Ryan," he took a deep breath, "maybe they are treating him in that hospital," he felt his eyes closing, "and he's deflecting some of it to me too. I don't know. I don't feel dehydrated," he muttered more in his sleep than in the real world, "I really don't know, Dean."

"It's O.K. Sam. That would do it, I guess. Right?"

Sam shrugged from the bed and sunk in it a little more.

"So you're leaving?" he cracked an eye open and gathered all his strength to say those painful words.

Dean brought another glass of water to the nightstand, because the previous had spilled when Sam's hand missed Dean's shoulder and nodded.

"You just rest and I'll be back as soon as I can. You have your phone here," he pointed to the nightstand, "and your gun too. So you're all set."

Sam didn't want to remind Dean that Leroy comes to him in his mind, so the gun would be pointless, unless he shoots himself in the head.

"O.K. thanks."

Dean saw hesitation in Sam's eyes and he thought this was a perfect opportunity to tell Sam what he thought.

"Sam, I was thinking. Leroy gets to you through Ryan, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, Leroy doesn't actually know you exist."

"Well…"

"So he won't come here, he'll go to Ryan first."

Thinking about it woke him. Even if Leroy comes to Ryan…it'll still hurt him. But he couldn't tell that to Dean, although he knew Dean knows that. Sam knew Dean was just living on illusion that nothing bad will happen; Sam had to admit, he was living on the same illusion too. It was like oxygen by now; thinking everything will be alright, that need to make it through.

"Let's just hope you're right and Leroy won't make an appearance in person." He fidgeted with the blanket, trying his best to swallow down that nagging feeling of loneliness that was once again settling in his mind. Dean had to do this, the sooner the better.

"I won't be long, you know that. You'll be fine, Sam."

Dean went to open the main door, grabbing his jacket along the way, when Sam's voice called after him:

"Be careful."

"I'll be back in a blink of an eye." He winked and closed the door behind him.

**--**

**TBC…**


	20. Chapter 20

**I have nothing to say, **_shock, I know_**, just…**

…**enjoy.**

**--**

**CHAPTER 20: **

When Dean parked the car at the cemetery he almost cried at the lie he had to tell Sam. He knew this would be a long search for a headstone that probably doesn't even exist. But he couldn't bring himself to tell that to Sam. It would be foolish to worry him but on the other hand it was a stupid thing to do. They left Leroy to bleed to death so they probably didn't bury him in a marked grave. If they buried him here. If they buried him at all. Sam didn't have to know that. He knew he lied to Sam when he said that he knew exactly where Leroy was buried, but it was an innocent lie, right?

_Yeah, Dean you keep telling yourself that and maybe it'll become true._

Exiting the Impala, he ran towards the graveyard, his bag already on his shoulders, the shovel hanging from his hand and leaving bruises on his legs. He searched every headstone, every grave, and every scrap of uneven earth that could be considered as a grave. An owl was his only companion when he ran through rows and rows of unevenly scattered graves.

"The only person that's gonna die tonight my friend, is Leroy." He muttered to the owl and descended down a small hill on the lower level of the cemetery. The branches of the trees were hanging lower here and one of them scraped him over his head: "Son of a bitch."

It didn't help though, the scrape still hurt.

The headstones were older here and Dean thought that luck might just smile upon him.

The night was warm in a cold kind of way as the wind was cold when he swirled around Dean. The grass was brown in color, scorched from the summer sun and it crunched beneath his feet as he moved among the wooden crosses and names of loved ones that were buried underneath.

The moon was still high on the sky with no intention to leave it anytime soon.

"Leroy, Leroy, Leroy, come out, come out wherever you are, you piece of dead bones."

"Lucy, Peter, Nicole, Leonard, Angus, Nicolas, Abel, Samuel," he stopped at the name there, and for a moment he thought back on his brother…

-:-

Sam slept, peacefully and undisturbed. He dreamed of meadows and woods with an occasional wendigo chasing him, but mostly just nothing. No Leroy dying, no Jessica, no Dean in trouble, just peace and quiet.

And then he stared at the ceiling with a horrible notion that Jessica would appear there, burning alive. And then he slept some more with dreams of Dean and himself when they were kids.

And then he watched at the window and thought about Dean on the graveyard digging up Leroy's grave and complaining the whole time. That brought a sour smile upon his face, a smile that soon faded into a gasp for air.

-:-

"Alex, Bernard, Leroy. Ha, got ya, you son of a bitch. 1823 until 1888, you lived long enough I don't know why you have to live beyond your life."

He lowered his bag and his shovel and started digging.

The earth was still damp from the rain as Dean struggled with the shovel. The wet dirt was heavy as he threw it on the side.

"I have to say, Leroy, I'm surprised they buried you in a marked grave, being that they bled you to death. Being that they were afraid of you." he grunted out.

He started sweating and when the cold wind blew around him, he shivered.

His shirt was drenched in sweat as he plunged the shovel into the wooded casket. A small form of bones greeted him: "Well, hello there. Finally…we meet."

He jumped out of the grave and reached for the canister of salt.

-:-

Sam couldn't get enough air to fill his lungs. He gasped and held his hands to his chest wanting somehow to relief the pressure he felt there. He raised himself from his lying position wanting to know if that'll help him breathe.

The hollow eyes with almost black brownness were the first thing Sam saw.

"Leroy." He rasped out and the fire he felt before was in his throat again, burning the soft tissue there all over again.

Long gray hair, thin and sharp like a needle, hung from his face, hiding his face, but Sam saw…he saw the things he couldn't before. He saw the weariness marring Leroy's face. The years he spent on fields, taking care of his crops, years of worrying over rain and sun were almost shockingly evident in his eyes and face. Underneath the farmers exhausted exterior Sam saw loneliness, pain, fear and longing.

"You're the one Ryan was projecting me to. You thought I wouldn't find out?" his voice was like sandpaper scratching on wood. His mouth was moving slowly, too slow for Sam to comprehend the words, but something in his mind told him the meaning of them.

Leroy poked a long, thin, bony finger into Sam's chest, breaking the tip of it in Sam's hoodie. Sam screamed, as pain flared through his chest. He could breathe now, which was little comfort, as every breath he drew in made his chest burn.

"Well, kid," Leroy lowered his gray, wrinkled face closer to Sam's, "I guess I'm going home now and I'm taking Ryan with me."

His voice turned into a soft whisper, barely scraping the surface. His breath as it hit Sam's nose smelled of dirt. A metallic smell of blood lingered on the edges but Sam wasn't quite sure…maybe it was his own blood he smelled.

"What?" Sam said breathlessly, still clutching his chest and looked through tear filled eyes at Leroy's fading form.

"I just wanted to go home. I just want to go home." The words faded into the silence of the room, being absorbed by every object in the room.

The room's dim light became hollow, stripped of all calmness that the light usually brings to a person. It became lonely, silent. The wind outside was the only noise Sam could hear before Leroy faded and took his words with him.

But the meaning still floated in Sam's mind, going straight to his heart.

_Wanna go home, Leroy? Yeah well, we don't always get what we want._

It was a vacant thought, a thought brought by pain and: ""Dean!! Oh God, make it stop!"

Sam screamed and fell on all four, barely missing the side of the bed. His hand fell off, but he got it back up and clutched the blanket.

But there was no Dean to stop the pain, no Dean to help him. It was just him and the dark room. Even Leroy left him.

He could feel the stitches break on his wrist; the blood was starting to bubble out of the cut. His head hurt, he thought his brain would leak out of his ears, _maybe I'm bleeding again_, his chest still burned like hell.

"Dean!" he sobbed out, tears running into his open mouth, the taste salty and warm on his tongue.

He could feel blood mixing with the tears and he dropped his head to wipe his mouth in the green blanket. It did nothing, the blood was still dripping out, a thick line of bloody saliva coming straight from his mouth to be soaked by the blanket. He rested his hand to his stomach where he felt the muscles constrict. He knew he was going throw up and it wasn't gonna be pretty, as he had nothing to throw up.

He choked, the blood in his throat making him gasp and spit. But it didn't help; the blood was still pooling in his mouth, the tears were silent in their descent, the pain from his wrist shooting spikes of heat up to his eyes.

"Dean!! Oh God!!" he yelled at first but soon his words were swallowed by a whimper.

"Dean." a whispered cry.

He wasn't afraid that someone would be coming to knock on his door, he would actually be happy if someone would come. He wondered if Leroy felt like this when he was dying. Scared, alone and in pain, with no one to help him, far from home.

Alone.

-:-

After pouring the gasoline on the bones he light up his lighter. The flame brightened the darkness surrounding him and he threw the canister into the grave. The flame lit up his face as a smile was slowly creeping upon his lips.

"Just die. For good this time, you son of a bitch."

He didn't have time to glow on a job well done. He had to get back to Sam.

-:-

_If this is how dying feels, _Sam thought_, remember to ask Dean to shoot me when my time comes. _

"Oh God." He clutched at the blanket with his hands and braced himself for the retching that he felt coming. Nothing came out, but spit and blood. He groaned and let his head fall on the bed. He rocked a little, the motion almost relaxing him.

When his forehead hit the blanket, he groaned some more. The thought of why this was happening never entered his mind. When another cramp hit his stomach he cried out. Tears were mixing with the sweat on his face, and tickled down his neck.

"Dean!! Make it stop," he cried silently into the blanket, drowning his face into his blood, tears and sweat, "please."

But there was no one. No one to help him, when everything in him was breaking and falling apart. His spine felt like someone was trying to break it in two and he leaned himself on his forearms.

Little white dots were dancing in front of his eyes, like snowflakes in winter. He was cold, so cold…his shirt was drenched in sweat, his hoodie soaked and smelly. He hated that smell…the smell of helplessness. He choked on it, sending little droplets of blood to land on the blanket.

"God…oh, God. Make it stop." He didn't know if he said those words out loud, didn't know if he was even alive at all. Every sensation imaginable was put up a notch, flooding him, making him twist and turn from the inside out. When he thought his spine would crack in two, there was nothing. No pain, no blood, no retching, no cramps, no burning sensation, nothing. It was almost like something sucked the pain from him, leaving him spent.

He raised his head from between his shoulders and looked at the table in front of the foot of the bed. He found his breath, and he used it. Breathing as deep as he could, he looked at his surrounding.

_I died and this is how it is. A motel room, great. Just…crap. _

He let his head fall on his hand again. The sound of a telephone ringing brought him back to reality. He raised himself from the bed, slowly when he felt a cramp in his leg.

"Dean." breathless.

He remembered Dean putting his phone near the bed somewhere, and when he raised his head from his forearm to look around the room he saw a flash of light on the nightstand.

He breathed and reached his hand to pick up the phone.

"Dean." he wiped away the tears from his eyes, his leg still in a cramp, but otherwise he felt great.

"Sam? What's wrong?" his heart fell into his stomach at the sound of Sam's voice.

"Actually…nothing." He still couldn't get the crack of fear and pain out of his voice, and he knew Dean would pick up on that and worry…too much.

"Sam?"

Just one word, just one little three letter word and Sam heard everything his brother wanted to say with that. That Dean was scared, that he knows he's scared, that everything will be alright. And he even heard one thing that he was positively sure Dean didn't even wanted to say…_you're not alone_.

He blinked once to put away that thought, to keep it safe somewhere inside and he choked out: "Where are you?"

"On my way to you. I'll be there in a few minutes. Leroy is toasted." He smiled, and Sam could see him with that triumphant smile on his face and he had to smile himself.

"He came here…"

"Sam? Are you O.K.? Did he hurt you?" his eyes widened when Sam told him that, the heart in his stomach fell even lower.

"No, Dean. I mean yes. I mean…that's the point. I feel fine. I feel like nothing happened. I feel like I've just slept for a really long time." And it was true. He felt absolutely amazing. Like nothing happened.

"Sam, are you sure you're fine? You sound a little…drugged."

"Funny, Dean. No, listen to me. I feel great."

He checked himself out. There was blood on his hoodie and shirt, blanket was full of it too and the room smelled of blood, bile and sweat. Yeah everything's fine…normal.

"What did Leroy want?" down to business, with his heart down to his knees.

"He," his eyes widened with the realization of what Leroy said, "Ryan."

"Sam?"

"He went after Ryan."

He stumbled off the bed, the cramp in his leg gone, when he messaged it back to normal while talking to Dean and zigzagged towards the door. He tripped on the blanket that fell of the bed and cursed it. The door were easy to open, because he was doing that his whole life…so was breathing but he was still looking for his breath when he walked on unsteady legs towards the object of his affection right now.

"Sam stay where you are, I'm gonna get you."

Dean heard a car in the background.

"Sam?"

"Just get to the hospital." and he hung up.

"Idiot." Dean muttered to himself as he threw the phone on the passenger seat and floored the Impala.

**--**

**TBC…**


	21. Chapter 21

**O.K. I know I said I'll put this chapter up yesterday, and I've always been a girl of my word, but we had such an awful thunderstorm the whole day that turning up anything involving electricity would be suicide. But here it is…a new chapter on a clear day…**

**Enjoy…**

**-- **

**CHAPTER 21: **

Sam was wide awake; it truly felt to him like he had been sleeping for days on end. Nothing burned, nothing throbbed, nothing hurt, nothing was wrong. He felt well rested. Everything was…normal.

'_s this how normal feels like? _

He focused on driving down the road, the 'borrowed' car had a garbage problem that was even worse then the Impala's. Burger wrappings, empty Coke cans, juice cans, cigarette burns on the upholstery, windows pooped on by birds, whoever owned this car was just disgusting. But it was the nearest car to steal and it looked like it was in a driving state. Sort of…it was the only one that was not a truck or a family car with at least two baby seats in the back.

The road was as dark as it was before when Dean had driven him to the motel; it seemed like a lifetime ago. He wondered what the time was, but just couldn't force himself to look at his watch. Time was relative anyway. He knew the way, it shouldn't take him long to get to Ryan. He was amazed at how uneventful the ride was, there were no trees jumping on the road, no animals doing suicide, no stops for peeing…_my bladder feels empty, it's actually a weird feeling_.

There was no pesky big brother with his blaring music that blew out his ears. It was just a peaceful night drive on a road that held no surprises. He passed the now closed gas pump, when the concern for Ryan kicked in. It started with a whisper that soon turned into a scream.

_Gotta save Ryan, have to see he's alright._

The thought was pulling at his brain, squeezing his chest making it hard to breathe, to see. But the thing that frightened him was that he was so used to these sensations that they became him. The pain was dull, no longer hurting.

His phone rang and he fished it from the passenger seat, where he had thrown it before. It was hiding beneath a newspaper and a cigarette box. _Empty_ cigarette box. God, the car smelled.

"_Sam where are you?"_

"I just passed the gas pump."

"_I'm right behind you. Fifteen minutes at the most and I'll be there."_

"O.K." he didn't know what more to say.

"_Sammy, be careful."_

"It's Sam and I'm already there. See you." _I'll be fine…as long as you get there._

O.K. so he lied. He wasn't there but five more minutes with this speed and he will be. He just wanted to end the call, before Dean would go all 'Sam stop your car and wait for me or I'll kick your ass'.

After a deep sigh he threw the phone on the empty cigarette box and continued to drive. Looking through the window on the lonely, dark road he realized that he was weary of everything. Weary of these things happening to him, tired of being hurt and a puppet to everyone that…but he had to keep doing this. No matter the price he and Dean paid…it's worth it.

Saving lives, keeping people safe and in the dark. No need to get them involved in the dark shadows of the world. It's better that they are oblivious.

It was his job to help Ryan, his job to save him…and he'd do it.

The thinking of keeping people in the dark and saving Ryan got him closer to the building and he turned off the smelly car.

In the light of the moon and the stars the building looked like a castle, torched by the enemy army. Sam didn't waste any time in admiring the architectural components of it all and he staggered down the now familiar path, with the pavement crunching beneath his feet. In the silence of the night the sound was loud in his ears, making him look behind him on numerous occasions when he thought he was being followed. The rustling of the tips of the trees followed his every step, making his skin crawl with goosebumps.

The cold air was drying his sweat soaked shirt and he hid himself in his hoodie, shivering slightly at the sensation. It smelled of summer, despite the rain from the night before. It was a fresh mixture of blossoming flowers and trees. The smell of freshly cut grass also invaded his nose. He was in the countryside after all.

The trees were still a silent guardian of the benches and hidden windows. No lights were turned on anywhere in the building, and Sam though that maybe the building died along with Leroy. But then one light turned on and he dismissed that thought. One figure walked by the window, only a silhouette was visible and Sam hid behind a tree. It was a massive block of wood, and with his thin form he was easily hidden. The light turned off and he believed it was safe enough to continue his way to the entrance.

The two lions were still there, but they seemed different somehow. Sweeter, nicer, smiling in a way.

The doors were unlocked, which seemed a little odd, but Sam had no time to dwell on it. He had to get to Ryan. The light hit his eyes and it stung for a second. His feet once again hit the familiar marble floor, his soft sneakers making little sound as he stepped on that first step. _Only a million to go_, he thought.

"Mr. Hicks? What are you doing here?"

_Crap, well now I know why the door was open._

He turned around slowly; not wanting to answer the petite women, he knew was standing behind him, to soon. He would just take his time and turn around slowly. But there isn't a lot of seconds you can gain in just turning around slowly.

With one foot still on the first step, he said: "I was just…"

He was interrupted by a rough opening of the heavy door that caused the cold wind from outside to swirl in. It blew away the smell of undercooked food and cleaners. The pungent smell of disinfection still burned Sam's nose though.

In the bright light that ruled the hall, Sam saw a figure enter the vast room. He knew who it was; he could feel him coming a mile away. Well, actually those fifteen minutes past, like a minute ago and he knew it was Dean.

"Dean…"

The look Dean gave him told him all he needed to know. It was the tall tale sign of 'run Sam, I've got this'. And Sam ran. He ran up the stairs, the same one that mocked him earlier that day.

"Ryan's mother, she… we just heard…" and the last of Dean's words faded with those final few steps.

The hall was huge and long, just the way he remembered it. Nothing changed in the last few hours he'd been gone. The light was dim here, in such contrast with the light downstairs, where the brightness almost scorched his eyes. The windows were still standing in a row, smiling like black teeth in an old man's mouth. The stars were visible through them though, and the young moon was still being a mother hen to them, not letting them escape.

He checked his watch, the desire to know when the darkness would end too powerful to ignore anymore. From what he could determine, the short pointer was on 4 and the long one was grazing 52.

Satisfied with the clock showing early morning and knowing that the sun would probably rise soon, he continued his way towards Ryan's room. He still remembered that impossibly high room number. He tip toed down the hall, the moon following his every move, illuminating his path. The concern he felt for Ryan was pinching at his stomach, a feeling he always got when something's about to happen.

The pain hit him full force and he staggered towards the wall. He slammed his tall frame against the white wall and waited for the unavoidable things that were about to happen.

The pain started in his temples and made an agonizingly slow climb to his brain. He dug his hands in his eyes and hit his back on the wall a few times, trying to deflect the pain that was invading his mind to the pain in his back. But it was a lost cause. The image sliced through his mind, turning the black window in front of him into a bleary slide show of colors and shapes.

-:-

_Someone was sitting on a clean white bed, the sheets fluttering in the warm summer breeze coming from a large open window. _

"_Sam…help me. Please."_

_Sam stood in front of the figure and saw the brown eyes, big and scared with tears running down the freckled cheeks. _

-:-

The child's voice still echoed in his ears when he woke up sitting on the cold marble floor. His hand was braced on the wall, his fingers chipping away the already loosened paint. He breathed in that all too familiar smell that seemed to follow him everywhere he went in this place. Even his vision smelled of it. The smell of death.

His head hurt, the pain he thought he wouldn't feel so soon and hoped he wouldn't feel ever again. But hoping is futile with these kind of situations; he knew it would be best if he would learn that already. It would make thinks easier if he wouldn't base everything on hope. But then…hope is all he's got. All he'll ever have.

When his world tilted itself right again, he bolted up from the floor with a frantic whisper of: "Ryan!" and the world once again rotated around its axis. He had to hold on to the wall to get his bearings back.

He slid his hand on the wall, staggering slowly towards Ryan's room, chipping away paint in the process, leaving a stream of ruined wall. His fingers started to hurt, but the pain was dulled by the headache he felt coming. He kept his hand on the cold oily wall, never wavering from the solid touch he had…a touch to ground himself.

The further he got the more the hallway got brighter. The early signs of a sunrise were glowing in the far horizon and the red color of the awakening sun shone through the windows, making the space for Sam to walk on look bloody and warm. The feelings of dread and safety both at the same time spread throughout his body, warming him up and making him walk faster. He tried his best to stifle down his vision, but all was in vain as the echoes of Ryan's voice still lingered in his mind, making him stumble and almost fall when he hit a picture hanging on the wall. The picture hung loosely after that, he didn't try to fix it, couldn't even bring himself to care.

The visions took a lot out of him, making him dizzy and weak, confused and nauseated. The sun crawled up some more and tiny specks of dust were visible in the dull red light, they hit Sam's body and rested upon his clothes, face and hair. He breathed them in and saw how they danced around him…they were the only normal things right now that got his mind of the blinding pain in his head.

The bleary sight he was gifted after the vision made him see distorted figures and misshapen forms. Nothing made sense to him anymore; the tears burning in his eyes were a slight distraction from the jumbled world he resided in right now.

"1271," he stumbled further, "1273, oh, God." he blinked and sucked the tears threatening to fall, resting his chin on his chest. The restless hair he wore fell into his eyes, drying up the rest of the tears.

"1275," he stopped walking.

"Ryan."

**--**

**TBC…**


	22. Chapter 22

**This is the last chapter. My heart is actually breaking a little right now. It's been a long road with this fic, but I'm happy with it. I think I really am. **

**Thank you to those of you who stuck by it, those of you who helped me through it (you know who you are, **_hugs_**) and those of you who went silently by it and never stopped to chat. **

**Anyway...**

**Enjoy…**

**-- **

**CHAPTER 22: **

He tried to collect himself, breathing in deeply the smell of cleaners that ruled the corridor and extended his hand towards the door handle. He hesitated…the fear of what he might find in there was in his mind, but it disappeared quickly and was replaced by concern for the boy.He knew exactly what the kid was going through, because he was going through it with him, but still he couldn't figure out why. Why was Leroy doing that? Why was he showing them or rather Ryan, how he died?

He knew one thing for sure…if the same things that were happening to him were happening to Ryan too…the kid was hurting…bad.

No wonder he was catatonic.

_If it wasn't for Dean…_

He shook his head and that simple action sparked new pain to arise.

"God, argh." He grabbed his head with his free hand and dug his fingers in his temples. His knees buckled a little but he stood his ground when the pain disappeared.

He knew he was delaying, he knew that, but he couldn't force himself to enter. Not now when he was handicapped with residues of the vision. But years of training under his fathers hand taught him how to _suck it up, boy_ so he did. He sucked it up and entered the room.

The sunrays reached all the way up to the room's window, spreading their tentacles of light over the ledge to give warmth to the room. To give light and life to the tall space that one Ryan Hicks occupied. They spread their heat over the laying figure of Ryan's body, dispersed softly on his chest, rising up and down with his labored breathing.

"Ryan?" he tried to sound quiet to preserve the silence in the room.

"Ryan?" he held his voice soft and in a whisper. He didn't want to scare the boy, although he knew he wouldn't. Ryan came to him for help and he would help him.

He staggered on towards the bed, nearly missing the IV pole that was in his way.

_That's why I didn't get dehydrated…that much. _

He leaned down to look at the boy. The sight was so familiar to him, but so very different. The bandaged wrist was neatly tucked by his side, no running blood, no flies and no stench of blood. Ryan's eyes were opened, staring oblivious into the high ceiling, no screams for no one to hear and no fights. His chest was slowly making its way up and down, no frantic breathing and no painful huffs. The sun on his chest…that was familiar, the distant look…that was familiar too.

"Hey, it's Sam." He leaned a little closer to look right into Ryan's eyes. Those brown, chocolate eyes that saw the same things he saw. The skin that felt the same things he felt…or was it the other way around?

"I, ah, I know what happened. I know what," he corrected himself here, Ryan was not a 'what' he was a…"who you are. What you're capable off. It's alright."

Down the freckled face came a lonely tear that was aching so much to come out, that it was a relief for the bloodshed eyes when she escaped.

"Ryan, hey. Hey, Leroy can't hurt you anymore. Dean," he reflectively looked towards the door, craning his neck to better see them, "my brother, he got rid of Leroy. He won't hurt you anymore."

His breath ruffled Ryan's hair for a brief second before he stopped talking.

That one glance to the closed door, reminded him that Dean wasn't here.

_Where is he?_

When he reached his hand to touch Ryan's hand, to see if there was some way they were still connected, the door opened with the same ferocity his heart started pounding at the noise. He retreated his hand quickly like he was burned, spinning around, almost knocking the I.V. stand in the process.

"Dean!"

Dean closed the door silently behind him and turned around.

"You scared the crap out of me!" Sam whispered more loudly than he probably should.

"Sorry, scaredy pants, I can't open the door without some noise."

Sam huffed.

Dean came near him with rustling of his jacket and smell of coffee.

"You had coffee?"

"The nurse downstairs," the look Sam gave him, the 'I can not believe you' was written clearly in his face, the glazed eyes, the hunched form, "Sam? You O.K.?"

"Yeah, I just…Ryan came to me…"

Dean looked at him with eyes wide open, trying to see straight into his brother: "He _came_ to you?"

"In a vision."

"You had a vision?"

Dean walked around the bed, his eyes darting from Sam to Ryan. He blocked the rising sun with his back, leaving Sam in the shadow and Ryan's chest deprived from the heat.

"Yeah, I saw Ryan," he looked down to the boys face, "he asked me to help him."

"And?" Again with the wide eyes, glimmering with concern.

"And that's it."

"Sam…" the warning in his voice stated what he could not: don't lie to me.

"I'm fine if that's what you're asking."

"You don't look fine."

"Well I didn't have my morning coffee yet."

"Hey…saved your ass."

And that was that. They both knew where they stood, both knew what happened, both knew that bickering can wait. They had to help Ryan, have to make sure he's alright and that was that.

"So how is he?"

Dean stuffed his hand in his pocket and waited for Sam's weary eyes to tell him what his mouth would certainly not.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

_Sam come on, stop lying. _

"I don't know. He's like you see him I guess."

"So he's still catatonic?"

"Well, yeah."

"Did you try talking to him?"

"Yes and he didn't…I don't think he knows we're here. I mean he probably feels us, but I don't think he knows, you know?"

"Right," he looked at the kid, "do you think he'll be alright now, that Leroy is gone?"

"How should I know?"

"You're the one who was linked to him, not me."

"I know." Dean could cut the sadness in those two words with a knife.

"He's hurting isn't he? Like you were?"

"I wasn't…"

"Sam, just don't. I was there, I know."

"I…"

He was interrupted by a hand that made it's way up his arm, clawing at the sleeve of his hoodie and tugging down. Sam looked at Dean, who just shrugged innocently and indicated nothing more.

Sam went with the pull, went closer to the boys head. He saw one more tear in the corner of Ryan's eye, glistering in the short, black lashes.

"Hey, it's alright." He looked at Dean who leaned closer as well.

"Ryan…" he felt the tug getting stronger and he tried to resist it or else his arm would fall on the boy's chest and he was afraid he might break it.

"What? Ryan, hey it's alright, 's O.K."

He saw two tears make their way down to the boy's ear and he knew exactly the feeling that produced. Ryan shifted his eyes, rotated them slowly to where Sam stood, to where Sam was looking at him.

"I just," a breath, "wanna go," a tug on Sam's hoodie, "home."

The words were clear even though the voice was hoarse and broken.

"You will Ryan, alright." He nodded a little, just enough for his hair to fall into his eyes. Just enough so that he could smile to that scared face.

Sam heard those words before and knew their meaning, knew they were a thought going around Leroy's and Ryan's head. And his own…sometimes. They all felt trapped in a place none of them belonged to, but he had a home, even though it wasn't the usual home with white picket fence and a lawn with freaky elves on it. He was home wherever the Impala and Dean took him. As long as he was with them he was home. Ryan and Leroy on the other hand were locked here, against their will and held here with no means of escape. He suddenly understood why Leroy cut his wrist; he understood his desire to die.

And he knew why Leroy attached himself to Ryan; they were both held here because they were different…different like himself. They were homeless, held here without their families…and he…had a family.

Ryan breathed out, slowly and painfully loud. He closed his eyes right in front of Sam, his hand that was clutching to Sam's hoodie fell loosely on the bed and…he went home.

"Ryan?" he shook the boy's arm, giving it a little more force when he got no response. The alarms went into loud banging and beeping and cracking when they didn't pick up a heartbeat anymore.

"Ryan!?"

Dean reached his hand to Ryan's neck and felt for a pulse. The machines told him all he needed to know, but he still hoped for electricity fallout or something. But no. There was no fluttering underneath his fingers, no breathing from the boy and he knew he was dead. No one could be able to help him, not even the doctors with all their equipment. Leroy took him somehow and what a ghost takes a ghost takes. Or maybe Ryan was just tired…he just wanted to go home after all.

"Sam." Dean tried to get to Sam, who was still franticly shaking Ryan's shoulder. After getting no response from his brother, he ran around the bed to get to him.

He tugged him back by his hoodie: "Sam," he pried Sam's fingers from Ryan's shoulder, "Sammy, hey come on. We have to go."

"Ryan…"

Dean rotated Sam so they were facing each other and looked at his broken brother standing in front of him, with the early morning sun illuminating the room, dispersing in the deep, glistering eyes of his brother, making everything look bright, too bright: "Sammy, he's gone, he's dead. We have to go," he tugged stronger, making Sam follow him and almost crashing them into the door, "we have to leave; we can't do anything here anymore."

Sam knew Dean was right, he knew they had to leave the place, he knew that Ryan's dead…but the agonizing burn in his chest, prolonging a scream he had building in there, was numbing. His feet barely got all the orders that Dean had for him in the form of run, left, come on, come here, stairs Sam, move, right, watch for the trash can…sit.

He smelled it then. The leather seats, the stench of the burgers, the apple pie and the chocolate cookies…Impala…home.

"Sammy?"

"Sam?"

He felt something being pushed into his hand, something long, thin and familiar. It was still warm, from when Dean was holding it. His fingers were pushed into a fist, shielding the object from anything and everyone.

"Sammy hey, come on."

He looked down into his hand and saw the thin bracelet Dean had taken off when he had to bandage his wrist. The familiar feeling of holding it in his hand was enough to let out one tear and one deep breath.

"Sammy, hey, it's alright. You're O.K., you're fine."

Dean was scared. Sam was staring through the window, still and silent for most of the ride back to their motel, clenching and unclenching his hand to see and feel his bracelet

"We'll put that on when your wrist heals, O.K.?"

Sam rotated his head towards the voice he knew from somewhere, but couldn't quite put it in place. It was all hum to him, a melody…a lullaby.

"Sam, I'm going inside to get our things. You wait for me here, I'll be right back." And with that Dean exited the car, leaving Sam to gaze through the window into space.

The day was hot even at 6 in the morning and Sam knew it would get even hotter throughout the day.

"Sam?!"

"Sammy!!"

Dean thought the 'nickname' would bring his brother from wherever his mind took him. Wherever it was, it was too far away from here.

Finally hearing the voice in its right form, his brother's voice, Dean's voice...he looked at him.

"He died, he just died."

Dean was concentrating on the road when Sam whispered the words.

They came as a shock to him, more the volume of them not the meaning.

"Sam…" he gripped the wheel tighter.

"We killed Leroy, he was doing all of this, Ryan should be fine…" he was trying to keep his tears in check, but it was so hard when the only thoughts he had were of death, failure and seeing Ryan's eyes close right in front of him.

"Sam, you know we can't save everyone."

Silence ruled the car for a while, when Sam had to find his voice.

"He was just fifteen."

"I know." He didn't need to look at Sam's direction to see that tear ready to fall.

"We can't save everyone, Sam."

"I know."

Silence.

"We did the best we could, Sam. Ryan was just not as strong as you are."

"You think I'm strong?" and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I think you're annoying. I…of course I think you're strong, man…" _you could have died._

"Thanks." He mumbled with his hands fidgeting with the loose skin near his thumb.

Silence. Such loud silence.

"I know, it's just that…"

"Sam, no. You can't do this to yourself. Leroy had Ryan long before we got there…"

"We killed Leroy and Ryan should be fine…"

"Sam, you know things don't always go by the rules…"

"I know."

"Listen, Sam, hey, what happened to Ryan…Leroy had him for a long time, the nurse I had coffee with told me that Ryan had been like that for 5 years. I think that all those five years he was seeing the things that were happening to Leroy."

Sam looked at him.

"Ryan suffered…a lot. The nurse said he got these bruises, and cuts and things, unexplainable things, seizures and things… They didn't know what to do, so they kept him catatonic. And then, one day you came along and Ryan sensed you and he started to project everything Leroy was doing, to you."

"I know."

"I'm telling you, Sam…you are a magnet for these things."

"Funny." He glared out the window and thought of Ryan. Scattered thoughts, he kept chasing around his mind and then he caught one small thought. The brightest thought he could catch.

"At least he's free now. He went home…in a way."

"That's the spirit, Sammy."

Sam smiled softly, barely showing his dimples. He let the nickname slide, in a way he needed it right now.

After a while Dean couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Sam, why did you pee so much?"

"Leroy…he wasn't allowed to."

"He wasn't allowed to pee? Why?"

A vision he kept secret all this time entered his mind.

-:-

"_Leroy, how are we doing today?" with a mock voice of sincerity._

_Leroy was spread out on his bed, nothing but flies and bugs keeping him company. _

_He watched the man walk around his bed, stopped by the foot of the bed and smiled. A wicked smile, one with teeth and lips that stretch to the ears. _

"_You gonna pee anytime soon?" _

"_Take me to the bathroom. I can't… I won't…"_

"_You aren't even supposed to." _

_And with that he was gone._

_Leroy knew that if he did, he would get punished. He didn't wanna go down _that_ road. _

-:-

"I don't know why. I don't know." _They were torturing him, Dean, but you don't need to know that, just don't ask._

"And he had his bladder full all the time? And Ryan? And you? I don't get it."

"Some things Dean I guess are just not to be get." _Just leave this alone, Dean._

"Yeah, I guess."

After a mile of silence again that dragged for ever in Dean's mind he had to ask once more, had to be sure once more.

"Sammy," he cleared his throat, "are you alright?"

"Haven't we already covered this?"

"Sam," he dared to look away from the road, only to be met by Sam's large eyes, "I mean are you O.K. down there? Do you need a doctor?"

He really wished Sam would say no, but on the other hand, Sam would lie.

"God, man, can we just drop this?" he covered his head with his hands and let out one exasperated breath. More of a huff. He could feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Dude, just answer my question."

After one long breath: "No, I'm fine."

_Lying, are we?_

"It burns a little, but I think I'll be fine. And before you ask my head is fine, my bones are fine, my skin is fine, I'm fine."

"Sam…" there was a warning in his voice, one that Sam picked up immediately.

"Dean." he looked at his brother, just as Dean looked at him and through their eyes Dean saw Sam was far from being alright, and Sam just saw concern.

"Man I'll be fine, you don't have to…"

"What? Take care of you? Worry about you? What?"

"Dean…"

"Well sorry Sammy, as long as you live under my roof, I'm gonna take care of you."

"Your roof?"

Dean just raised his hand to the ceiling of the Impala and banged softly on it: "My roof."

Sam left out a breath, what else could he do?

After passing the corn field where all this started, Sam remembered something: "You promised me I could drive, Dean _and_ listen to my music."

"What? When?"

"When I opened my eyes, when you asked me to."

"I never…"

"Pull over and Suck. It. Up."

Dean grumbled something under his breath that sounded like 'he remembers that, but can't remember when it's his time to…' The rest was disguised by the crack of the Impala door opening. Sam chuckled and slid behind the wheel.

He showed his widest grin to Dean, when he sat in the passenger seat.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Sam, or I swear…"

"You'll do what?"

Dean mumbled something incoherent and looked out the window. Every so often he glanced to Sam, how he was relaxed behind the wheel, how his hands slid smoothly over it, never faltering from the path on the road.

_We're home Sammy…relax, that's it. _

_I'm home…nice and comfy._

After minutes of comfortable silence, Dean broke it: "Man, turn over somewhere, I've gotta pee."

Sam rolled his eyes.

**--**

**THE END**

**Yey, I've finished the story. Any comments? **


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